Fate: Servant and Cook
by Serenarey Chiba
Summary: Shirou is forced back in time to save Arturia from her downfall, though he doesn't know how or what to do about it. He's not a fighter, but an idealist. Is he supposed to use his ideals to oppose, or supplement Arturia's? Saber/Shirou
1. Chapter 1

"Von meinem Befehl, loslassen!"

Shots of white light in multitudes stormed down on the demons, purging through their darkness and whispering tendrils of evil. Aqua-blue eyes narrowed as the woman who had released the bullets stared over at her enemies. Growling softly, she gazed down at the last remaining jewel in her hand into which she had painstakingly transferred her own prana for the past seven years. The woman grimaced slightly. It was her last jewel, and it had cost a year of boring evenings with someone she wished she had never needed to speak to. However, she frowned, looking up at the oncoming demons, she didn't really have a choice. _Especially_ if a certain someone wasn't going to get his butt in gear and help her out.

"Shirou!" Tohsaka Rin shouted out, her patience waning. "Emiya Shirou, I swear, if all you were going to do was sit there and play with your bow, then I should never have brought you along in the first place."

Frustrated golden-brown eyes fixated on the raven-haired woman far away from him. Disgruntled, the young man fell down to one knee, bending down as low to the ground as he could to further stabilize his aim. He narrowed his eyes, drew back the several projected swords in his drawstring, and released swiftly. He grunted slightly as he made sure to maintain the energy required for each sword, and followed the arrows with eyes as they neared their targets.

Rin, having already seen the arrows whizzing straight towards her position, had quickly created a small, but strong barrier around her to protect herself from the blast. She watched the five arrows, or swords, split into multiples and slammed straight into the head of every single existing demon. Shielding her eyes from the resulting blast, Rin stood up to her full height, right hand on her waist as the barrier dissipated. Hearing oncoming footsteps, she peered back her partner as he came jogging up.

"Sorry for the delay, Rin," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Every time I lined up my sights, you always killed off a few more, so I was waiting until you ran out of juice."

His partner sighed, shoulders drooping as she realized she couldn't blame him for absolutely everything. "No, it's partially my fault, I guess. We should've made up some kind of code system, or something. But, then again, I figured you might take your sweet time. Again."

"Can't save the world every day," Shirou joked, shrugging his shoulders.

"Mm, yes."

Rin reached into her pocket to pull out her smartphone, and scrolled down the contents of one particular application. Shirou edged closer to her to check their mission list alongside of her. As Rin continued scrolling, she realized there weren't any more outstanding missions for them to complete. While she felt that to be a bit annoying – she was still in battle mode after all – she felt the tension ease out of her shoulders.

"Hm," Shirou muttered. "Nothing left that the Association wants us to do then?"

"It certainly seems that way," Rin drawled out, speaking while simultaneously thinking about what to do from that point. A message from another application popped up on her screen, slightly surprising her. Looking at what was written, she turned to Shirou:

"It says we have a month of leave. They want to keep track of the going-ons of an evil presence somewhere in Prague, but until they have a firm grasp of what's going on, they don't want us taking unnecessary risks."

"You mean they don't want their investments dying and leaving them high and dry," Shirou remarked sarcastically. "They'd hate to lose their precious wonders."

"Well, I can't say I blame them. We haven't failed a single mission since we were signed on a couple of years ago."

"We're not even demonologists or anything. I didn't come all the way to Europe with you just to be their dog."

Rin glared at him. "This again, Shirou? What do you think is paying our bills? What's paying for your lessons? What's paying for our equipment? Our transportation? Our emergency funds? Everything?"

She sighed again as Shirou turned away, running a hand through his auburn hair. "Look, I know you hate them, but that's why I take care of all of the communication relays, remember? That's why you stay at home like a good boy while I go out and deal with all idiots in control of our financial situation, although it is in bad taste for you to never go to see them at least every once and a while. I don't like seeing them any more than you do, you know."

"I don't hate them. I think that they're possessive and complete control freaks, but I don't hate them."

Rin's annoyed expression softened as she gave him a small smile. "Well, we won't have to see them for another month, until they give us our next mission. What do you want to do in the meantime?"

"First, I want to go home and take a real shower!" Shirou exclaimed, noticing the oncoming helicopter heading for their position. "This place freaks the hell out of me, and I think I've had enough of Russia to last me for a while."

"It's better here in Siberia than it was in Kuwait, at least."

"Oh, geez, don't bring up that place. I still have nightmares about that thing."

The two of them looked over at the helicopter, and started walking over towards their gateway back home.

* * *

><p>It had been around seven years since the end of the Fifth Holy Grail War. After Saber, Shirou's Servant, had vanished at the dawn of a new morn, Shirou had almost felt as if he was living on borrowed time. It seemed more like, his life was no longer solely his to live; that if he wanted to see his ideals through to the end, he needed to stand up and take charge and forge his own path. That didn't mean that he wasn't sad, or upset – far from it, Shirou had been ready to crawl into a ball and stay there until the hurt vanished. Of course, <em>she<em> would never have desired for him to sulk around, so he put up a good front for when he returned to school. Tohsaka Rin, who was questionably more than likely his best friend, was probably the only one who had seen through his façade, but she played along to make him happy.

Ever since that war had ended though, Shirou knew, more than anyone else, how insufficient his knowledge of magic and the world around him was. He knew, and so he trained with Rin on a regular basis up until the two graduated from high school. It became easier to shut down his emotions and focus more on specific tasks, and while it was difficult for him to change his views, – he couldn't help his stubborn nature – Shirou had gradually become able to differentiate between a woman living a normal life and when she was fighting to pursue her own goals or ideals. It wasn't necessarily wrong that she take up that role, but because she had a cause worth fighting for, that only made it fitting that she do so.

Then again, he had to admit that as of the start of his third, and last year in high school, he never once considered Rin to be a woman. No, she was a demon. Shirou knew as much when she constantly picked on him and poked at this wounds, but no. No, no, no. She got even worse when she trained him as her apprentice. She set up situations in which he was only doomed to fail. She would give him mental tasks that would cause a normal magus to falter, and when he did mess up, Rin would simply smile gently, with an evil twinkle in her eyes, and make him do it again. And again, and again, and again, and when he didn't manage to pass on the tenth time, she shoved him in her basement and forbade him food.

_"Perhaps staying down there will help you think more clearly next time you try,"_ she had said with a wide grin. _"I'm not here simply to feed you, you know."_

_"Don't you think this is a _little_ counterproductive? How am I supposed to think when I'm hungry?"_

_"Hm, that's not my problem though. Saber managed well enough, as I recall."_

_"She didn't even _need_ food!" _Shirou had protested, though to no avail.

Though, thinking back on it, he realized that his desperation had made him a bit stronger. No, she was still a demon. A maniacal demon who thought of him as a toy to play around with. Yes, his last year of high school had been hell.

After high school, Rin had gone off to London to the Mages' Association, after having received an admission recommendation. While she had originally invited Shirou to go with her, he'd had to turn her proposition down. While she could have taught him a great deal her first year, Shirou had preferred that she get used to her surroundings first instead. He also hadn't been particular interested in dealing with the Association yet either, considering it was partially their fault he'd been dragged into the war in the first place. As such, he had chosen to try refining his abilities on his own for that year after graduation.

Shirou hadn't bothered looking for a real job for stable income, but had instead picked up a few part-time ones here and there to support himself while he continuously trained. Saber had taught him how to survive, so what needed to focus on was how to take the initiative. Unfortunately, the only person who would have been a match for him was Fujimura Taiga, and while there hadn't been anything particularly wrong with sparring her, she'd demanded a bit too much of him outside of the battle – like three-course meals, for every meal. He hadn't had the income for that, so he'd had to pass on her assistance.

Well, if he couldn't work on his fighting, he would work on his aim, Shirou had surmised. It would have been impossible for him to visit the archery club at his alma mater, so he had to join a resident archery range in Shinto. When he hadn't been training his aim, or working, he would train his body. Pushups, sit-ups, running – anything that could possibly give him more stamina and a possibly stronger resistance to oncoming magic was precisely what he'd wanted to achieve. Every night before bed, he had also attempted to create a Reality Marble, just to see how long he would last each time. When that one year had ended, Shirou had managed to hold out for nearly two hours, if he did nothing but stand or sit around. When he'd attempted to move around, attack the air, rely on a massive number of swords to attack for him, and push himself to his limits, he had barely lasted half an hour.

When the next September had rolled around, a good two and a half years after the Holy Grail War had ended, the wannabe magus found himself in the capital of England, having packed his bags, and locked his house until he next returned. Saying good-bye to Taiga hadn't been nearly as difficult as he'd imagined it might be, but that might have been because he was just ready to move on to a new chapter in his life.

The day Rin had met him at the airport, with her flowing, long, black tresses tied up in a single ponytail hanging across her left shoulder, Shirou had felt his heart pound hard. Her aqua-blue eyes had looked him up and down, apparently appraising his build or whatever. She had been wearing a short-sleeve black t-shirt that, he recalled, had hugged every part of her curves. Her blue jeans had been simple, but looked wonderful on her. Honestly, it wasn't as if her outfit had been particularly stellar – it had actually been rather peasant-like for someone of her disposition – but the two crystal earrings (how much had those cost her?) enriched her image a bit. Yes, for a moment, he had been reminded of why he had idolized Tohsaka Rin in the first place, but then she'd opened her mouth and said:

_"You seem like even more of a bum than you did in high school, Shirou. I hope you at least brought me a gift."_

Was that the kind of thing people were supposed to say when they reunited? That their friend looked like a bum or a hobo? No normal person would say something so devoid of kindness! And, what gift? Buy your own damn gift!

Shirou had grunted, his pride wounded a bit. _"Tohsaka, that's the first thing you say to me after a year of not seeing each other? I hadn't known I was supposed to dress up to ride on an airplane. It took me nearly a day to even get here, you know."_

_"That's what you get when you don't tell me when your flight is until the second you land. Ridiculous. I don't exactly live near here, I hope you realize. I could have paid for your flight myself."_

And put himself even more into her debt? Nah, that just would have been asking for trouble, and he had enough to deal with.

Despite their rocky reunion, Rin had lived up to her promise of helping him get into the academy and getting him the quality teaching he needed. However, as he simply wasn't aligned with the main five elements, many of his teachers hadn't known what to do with him. Rin had warned him not to tell them about his Reality Marble, or ability to project, unless he'd wanted to become a lab rat. As such, most of what they taught him was how to protect himself against outer magical influences, and to strengthen his own abilities during enacted combat. Rin was the one who pushed his projection abilities to their limits – his alignment may have been swords, but he was more than capable of projecting everyday objects, and a few other types of weapons like spears, lances, war hammers, and the like. Shirou honestly just feel better dealing solely with swords, though.

In Rin's fifth year, six years after the end of the Holy Grail War, she had been invited to take part in missions as a representative of the Association. As there were many different kinds of evils out in the world, not all entirely related to magic, of course, that meant there was also always trouble to be found in every corner of the globe. However, since whenever trouble appeared to the fantastical degree, there was always doubt amongst those involved in magic that perhaps the Association was somehow involved. Even were the Association not involved in the least, discussions over why it was complacent in allowing these issues to crop up would start making headway among the people, to the point where even those who knew nothing of the magic world would begin making their own assumptions.

The second the normal citizens began getting involved was the moment the Magus' Association resolved to stamp down the abnormalities themselves by sending out accomplished magi and having them take care of the issues. In accordance, Rin, recognized as an official magus and of an upstanding quality, was invited – read: commanded – to assist in the cleansing process. The cleansing would take act as her fifth year studies, where she would use everything she had learned up to that point for the benefit of mankind.

Of course, she hadn't wanted to. She was still technically in training – why couldn't they send more accomplished magi to take care of the issue? Rin wasn't their dog, existing solely to take care of their issues for them. When they decided she would either do so or have to stay another year for further training, she, undaunted, agreed under the condition that her apprentice be her partner, and none other than him.

Her apprentice, a boy who could hardly even restore broken glass to its former self? How laughable a condition for her to place on the table. If the boy happened to somehow die during a mission, though, that would take away the shame of a such a low-level magus attending the best academy known to magi across the world. Yes, that would take care of two birds with a single stone. So, they did indeed agree to her terms, and that is how Shirou ended up becoming Rin's partner to eliminate undesirable fantastical events from the world as they knew it.

_"Ah, geez. Every time I talk to those geezers, I feel like they're all just copies of Kotomine come back from the dead to haunt me,"_ Rin had said, coming home to their shared apartment and lazing on the couch in an unladylike manner. _"Those morons don't have a clue of how amazing your abilities are. Taking care of a few demons or whatever here and there won't take up much of my time at all with this."_

_"I don't know, Rin,"_ Shirou had muttered, his arms crossed over his chest. _"I'm kind of perplexed myself. I don' t know the first thing about taking down demons. I don't have light magic or anything."_

After living in such close quarters together for the past four years, what wariness or hesitation they may have demonstrated earlier on in their friendship steadily dissipated into a feeling of comfortable ease. With all of their arguments, reconcilements, and happy days of learning magic together, they had surely grown to have a strong, unbreakable bond with one another. Shirou wasn't even sure when he started calling her "Rin", but it had come out as naturally as breathing. Rin hadn't seemed to mind in the least, either.

Rin had popped her head back up from where it rest on the back of the couch and fixed him with a solid glare. _"If you were that ridiculous idiot filled to the brim with unattainable ideals and no sense of self or magic, I wouldn't have bothered even arguing. I probably would've just settled with the extra year of tutelage and told them to shove it. Luckily, even you aren't that stupid anymore and besides, I know you. There's no way I could work with a Kotomine imitation. I'd kill him and have to go into hiding."_

_"Yeah, but, I don't have any holy water or anything. And I'm not a priest, either."_

_"Don't be ridiculous. Manifested demons will die with a bullet to the head just as easily as any other corporeal matter. We aren't talking about some fictional demon that can't be touched except by everything good and holy. Even if we were, the Association wouldn't bother sending us out for something that preposterous. There are actual demonologists and people involved with that line of work to do all of that."_

_"Still, it seems kind of dangerous."_

_"Says the guy who pushed a magical being out of the way so he could be nearly blown up by a barrage of arrows and a noble phantasm," _Rin had countered dryly, waving him away to get her some tea. _"Right, being put against monsters we can actually beat is so much more dangerous. Let me go retract the statement solidifying my participation right now."_

Shirou hadn't been able to mask his disgruntlement. _"You are never going to let me live that down, are you?"_

_"And miss out on that face? Hah."_

From that day forward, Shirou had been roped into going on every single mission presented to the two. At first, they had been restricted to just the United Kingdom area – they were still in training, after all. When their number of successful endeavors began to increase, the two began to receive more and more missions leading out of the UK into mainland Europe, and then into the Americas, Africa, Asia, and there was even a mission down near the South Pole. That one was an oddity though.

Shirou leaned back on the couch, taking in a deep breath as he looked out the front windows to his left. It was hard to believe it had already been seven years since all that mess back when he was in high school. He and Rin were no longer students at the academy – she had officially graduated back in July, and it was currently October. Without a doubt, Rin was unquestionably a genius. Her English had been spectacular, her grades were top-notch, she managed everything with flair, and still somehow made time to kill Shirou's ego at least three times a day.

He, on the other hand, had trouble figuring out heads or tails of English when he first got there. He could tell out simple things, certainly, but discussions about magic had been far beyond him. Now, he could more or less manage a normal conversation with other magi, and led a fairly carefree life outside of the walls of the Association. It made things a bit easier on him, too, being able to understand a different language. He also had the means to show up his older sister in the language she was supposed to know well enough to teach. Hah, he finally beat her in something outside of chores.

Shirou leaned forward and rolled back up his sleeves to above his elbows. At night, it got pretty chilly in London the closer it got to winter, – far more so than Fuyuki City had been – but the sunny days were still warm enough to not need a jacket. As he heard footsteps coming down the stairs, Shirou stood up, adjusting his light-blue buttoned shirt. He shifted the belt holding his jeans up a bit more and fixed his shirt collar before Rin made it down to the first floor. They locked eyes the second she came into view, and she took one glance at him before snorting.

"I'm sorry, are you going on a date or something? What's up with the shirt?"

Shirou frowned, crossing his now toned, muscular arms over his chest. "Well, I'm wearing this because you said the other one was too shabby."

Rin flipped her ponytail off her shoulder, and frowned herself. She wore a red cashmere sweater over a thin, laced long-sleeved shirt, with a sleek pair of black jeans to accompany the outfit. He had to admit: she looked good. Really good. He had known she would, too, so he tried to dress to impress. It seemed to have had the opposite effect though, he supposed.

"Shall I go buy you a horse and some boots with spurs to go with your look there, Shirou?" she teased with a slightly evil grin. "How about a ten-gallon hat?"

"Hah, tease all you like. If you haven't stormed into my room to get me a new outfit by now, then I must look pretty damn good."

"Eh, don't get too full of yourself, Emiya."

Shirou shrugged his shoulders, a gesture that reminded Rin an awful lot of Archer, her Servant from the war. Shirou may not have turned into a Counter Guardian like Archer had, but his mannerisms were starting to assimilate with what Archer's had been. It was actually a bit unnerving the more she saw and recognized them. When Shirou grinned at her, Rin felt her heart begin to pound slightly.

No, no, no. This wasn't going to happen. This was Shirou, her best friend. Damn it. Evil thoughts, be gone! Besides, he was still very much in love with Saber, and that was something that she never wanted to intrude upon. Rin smiled wistfully, and shook her head.

"Whatever. If we're going to go shopping, we'd best hurry. I hate walking around this neighborhood when it gets dark."

"We could've moved," started Shirou, opening the front door for Rin as she walked outside and down the three steps, "but _no_, that would've been too much work. Let's not mention that this area has one of the highest crime rates and that we're just waiting to get mobbed."

"You think I care about some petty thief?" she asked him as he locked the door. As soon as he slipped the key into his pocket and checked to make sure he had his wallet, she began to complain again.

"Even if we weren't magi," she whispered, before continuing in a normal volume, "I could handle any thief who is dumb enough to come at me. No, I wish we'd moved because this area reeks. I don't know who's practicing in this area, but they must not be the brightest bulb in the lot."

"I believe you'd be referring to Kristoff," Shirou said, pointing down the street at a light-blue house. "He uses various combinations to put that bit of oomph into his dishes. They actually taste pretty good."

"Not that guy, I know about him," she scoffed. "He makes a mean curry, considering he's from Russia. No, there's some amateur that moved into the area, but I've been too busy to check with Ana to find out who it is. Well, as long as the smell doesn't permeate through our house, I suppose it's not that big an issue. It's just a pain."

"I'll bet that if the place smelled like roses everywhere, you'd still find some way to complain about it."

"I am of the opinion that roses aren't as wonderful as everyone makes them out to be."

Shirou sighed, and slipped his hands into his jean pockets. "There's just no pleasing you, my lady."

"As long as we're clear."

After walking another couple of blocks, Shirou noticed one of the houses that used to be chockfull of gadgets everywhere was now empty and devoid of life. Tapping Rin on the shoulder, he gestured for her to look over at the house. "Hey, that guy moved out."

Rin hesitated and cleared her throat. "No, he was...disposed of."

"Oh..."

Shirou knew what that meant, but had never thought the nerdy-looking old man would've, or could've, done anything bad enough to get himself marked by the Association. Usually people who have pursued witchcraft or something with less than noble intentions, they could still work within the good graces of the Association, so long as their research led to inventions or abilities that would benefit the world of magi as a whole, or lead to more or better awareness of the world in general. To be marked and killed, however, would require something a bit more dire, like killing people in the Association's name, or... He was actually having some trouble coming up with possible reasons, since even a coup d'état wouldn't make the Magus' Association flinch, so long as it ended up bettering everything in the end. "The end fits the means" – something he didn't necessarily agree with, but recognized as being a pretty common trend in the real world.

"I wonder who's going to take his place."

"Who cares? Let me see that shopping list again."

Shirou gave the empty house one last glance before turning away from it for good.

* * *

><p>A little over a couple of weeks had passed since their mission in Russia, and Shirou was left lying on his bed at home, staring at the ceiling while he thought over what to do that day. Rin was in Los Angeles, having been called over for an emergency, which meant their vacation would be extended by another week to make up for her lost time.<p>

_"I'll be gone for one week, just _one_!"_ she had said, pinning him with another one of her glares. _"Do you think you can keep from causing trouble with the Association this time? If I'm asking for too much, just let me know. I'll tie you up and throw you up into the attic."_

_"Ugh, Tohsaka,"_ referring to her like he'd used to back in high school to show his irritation, _"everything will be fine. I won't blow up anything."_

_"And damn it, Emiya, if you're going to do projection, would you mind doing it when you aren't in a position to be seen by every single person in the whole city? I don't exist just to clean up your messes."_

He hadn't projected intentionally, but he'd needed a wrench to help fix a kid's bike. Projecting something that small and handy had been like breathing to him – he hadn't even realized he'd done it until a crowd had gathered. Rin hadn't exactly been pleased. Shirou supposed he should've been thanking her for all her work behind the scenes, but it really annoyed him. It had been a mistake, and he could've attributed it to some kind of make-believe magic trick. In fact, that's what he did, and the crowd loved it, but Rin had been pissed. No, not just pissed, but absolutely furious. Rin had worked very hard to make sure the Association would never discover his true abilities, and he had nearly tossed her efforts of the past four years out the window within a single moment. It had practically been a year since then, but Rin seemed to still be fuming over the matter.

Shirou groaned and turned onto his side, still wondering how to go about his day. The sun was high and bright in the sky – it was really nice, considering how most of what he would be seeing during winter would be grey skies all the time.

"Hmph. I should go out and enjoy the day while I can. I don't have any orders to take care of right now, either."

Shirou rolled back, lifting up his legs as he coiled into a tight ball. Then, pushing off of hands, he leapt off of the bed and landed softly on the hardwood floor. After running a hand through his hair, he patted his lean, muscular stomach with a grin, murmuring, "I'd better get dressed if I'm going to head out."

He grabbed a pair of trousers and a long-sleeved shirt, dressed quickly, and dashed down the hallway, passing Rin's room along the way. Racing down the stairs, he jumped off from the third step and upon landing, threw his hands up in the air as if he had made an amazing Telemark.

"And the crowd cheers!" he exclaimed, turning back and forth and bowing all the while. "Emiya Shirou has just made the landing of a lifetime. Jim, I think he just made a new record! I think you're right, Bob – that was quite the landing!"

Scoffing at himself, Shirou shook his head and headed into the kitchen. He grabbed an apple out of their fruit bowl, rotating it in his hand as he opened the refrigerator door. As he'd expected, Rin had made a dish for every one of her scheduled cooking days. There was more food stored in there than there were raw materials.

"Geez," he muttered, reaching for a Ziploc container filled with nikujyaga, "I told her she didn't have to take the schedule so seriously. There's no point in me cooking anything if there's this much food around."

After taking out the container and shutting the refrigerator door, Shirou lifted up the top a bit before tossing the bowl into the microwave. While watching the container rotating around on the microwave plate, he crossed his arms and thought back to when he'd first moved in with Rin.

It had been tough at the start, to be sure. Both of them were far more used to living alone, and suddenly living together in the small apartment provided her by the Association had been train wreck. Naturally, Shirou was a morning person with Rin being the very opposite. He also liked to do things by the book, while she preferred to cut corners to save time if she could. The one thing they could agree on was that they both needed their own space, but Shirou wasn't in a position to go out and live in London on his own. For one, he couldn't speak English all that well yet. For two, an apprentice wasn't supposed to be living separately from the magus residing over them, anyway. The last matter was while Rin hadn't apparently cared about living with someone of the opposite sex, Shirou had felt like he was walking on eggshells the entire time.

The microwave beeped, indicating his food had been warmed up, so he took the container out and moseyed into living room with a pair of chopsticks in hand. Opening up the container fully, Shirou grinned.

"Wow, this looks great. She really outdid herself this time."

Taking a bite, he realized it was as good as it looked. Rin hadn't lost her touch at all.

So, upon deciding that they needed a bigger place, Shirou reminisced, both had set out together to find a decent sized apartment. With as much money as Shirou had saved up, and with Rin's trust fund, it would've been simple enough to rent something big enough for the both of them. However, since they were magi, there was always the risk of there being an accident occurring, so condos and apartments were out of the question. The only option left would have been to buy a house, but neither of them had ever dealt with mortgage paperwork before, so they had needed help from the Association to get everything taken care of.

After all of the big issues were settled, then came the small, pointless ones that continuously seemed to build up into big ones. Shirou wasn't an interior decorator by any means, but even he had his limits with the things Rin had wanted to hang up or buy. He wanted simplicity, and she wanted comfortable luxuriousness. He had ended up choosing the furniture types and she'd dealt with the comfort and intricacy levels. Then there was the wallpaper versus painting issue, and the real versus fake plants issue, and then the workshop size issue, and the chore rotation issue, and...

Shirou groaned as all of the memories from years before came flooding into his mind. Then there was the main problem for him, where he couldn't sleep well for the first few weeks knowing that Rin was sleeping in the room next to his, only a few meters away. He clung to the idea that he wasn't attracted to her at all, and even forced himself to recall Saber and the two weeks or so he had been with her. Then, one day, he'd woken up, gone to cook breakfast, had turned around to see Rin glaring at him (as she normally tended to each morning) while still in her nightgown, and had felt absolutely nothing. It had felt like a typical day, where Rin wasn't quite awake yet, and the fact that she was in a nightgown did nothing to him. It was like he'd forgotten what had made him anxious in the first place. When he had realized his ease, he'd burst out laughing as he'd handed Rin a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. Shirou recalled that she had been rather bewildered by his sudden outburst, but had ended up smiling a bit herself.

He slurped the last bit of konnyaku down before standing and going to wash the dish immediately. Rin had been good to him – that much he could definitely admit. She had taken care of him, and seen to all of his immediate needs, though she did complain some along the way. Honestly, Shirou thought, casting his gaze down at the sink, he wished he could love her, the way he knew that she loved him. It wasn't right, and he knew it wasn't, but try as he might, he could never forget Saber. After only two weeks of being together, she occupied his thoughts for the better of nearly ten years. Shirou had considered moving out a number of times after Rin had finished her studies, but after all she had done for him, he could never abandon her in that matter.

He shook his head back and forth, as if to clear away his thoughts. No, he'd already made up his mind about that. The only thing left to do was keep moving forward, just as he had been. If he couldn't give Rin what she desired most from him, then the best he could do was only become the best magus possible. Providing that wasn't possible, then he could at least master his Reality Marble and projection skills.

"Ugh, I'm thinking about stupid things again," Shirou murmured, walking out of the kitchen towards the front door.

Grabbing his keys from an end table along the way, Shirou walked out of the front door, and after locking it, starting walking down the street towards the main market area. He scratched the back of his head, ruffling his auburn hair. As he walked down the same street he and Rin always walked down, memory after memory from the years past kept popping up in his mind.

"I kind of wish we had a mission in Mexico or something. I could definitely go for some Mexican food," he said to himself, looking around at all the houses. "Or maybe even some of Kristoff's curry. Yeah, that sounds good right about now. I just ate though," he continued with a grimace, patting his belly.

Shirou sighed and lifted his eyes up look down the street, only to notice a large van on the curb near the empty house. Eyebrows raised, he watched as a single man attempted to move large pieces of furniture by himself.

"Hey, need some help?" he called out, jogging over towards the moving van.

The mover in question jumped slightly, and set the couch back down gently. Turning around, his pure, crystalline, cerulean-blue eyes caught Shirou by surprise. The other man peered down at him from the edge of the truck before jumping down. Waving his midnight-black bangs out of his eyes, the man made a large grin.

"Dude, that'd be great. This stuff is heavy as hell, and I'm too poor to hire people to help."

The man grabbed Shirou's hand, shaking it readily. "Name's Myrus! Nice to meet another mage that doesn't look like a complete stiff."

Shirou, taken aback, made a grin of his own after only a bit of hesitation. "I'm Shirou. People around here aren't as bad as you think though."

"Hah, sure they are," Myrus said loftily, waving a hand back and forth. "With that ridiculous Association right here in town, there's no way they wouldn't be that bad."

"Uh, okay," Shirou replied, deciding that Myrus didn't seem like all that bad a person. "But, how did you know I was a magus anyway?"

Myrus laughed again, jumping back on the truck. "Bro, do you even know how much magic's roaring around you? You're like a giant beacon, making it so even a blind men would be able to see you. You should probably learn to keep that energy bottled up."

Shirou crossed his arms, smirking a bit. Rin had actually told him something quite similar, years before. She, however, had known why he didn't bother to hide himself – why hide when what he wanted was to be found? Admittedly, it seemed like he was turning into a mimicry of Archer more and more as time passed. His reasons were simple though: he needed to become stronger to protect the ideals he had always boasted of, but he was in no position to seek out evils of his own accord. Rather, he did not possess the ability to do so. However, he was not averse to the idea of broadcasting an invitation big enough to draw every evil towards him. If evil was willing to go far enough to seek him out, then he needed only to bring about its end. That was the outlook he had developed over the recent years – not a reluctance to hunt down those that would hurt others, but a passiveness that would simply force them to come to him, if only to clear their path.

"I'm just here to exterminate those who would cause me, or anyone else, harm," Shirou replied in a soft tone, his golden-brown eyes narrowing. "Are you one of those gnats I'm looking to squash?"

The other man squared his shoulders, hands clenching into fists.

"Them be fightin' words, pardna."

The two men faced each other, each one staring the other down. Seconds soon turned into minutes, and any bystanders who happened to pass by somehow instinctively knew not to pay the two any attention.

"So, can you grab that end of the couch for me?" Myrus said with a grin, pointing back into the truck, quickly dissolving the tension.

Shirou shrugged, smiling himself. "Yeah, I've got you."

* * *

><p>So. Yeah. Enjoy?<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Notes: Uh, so, this ran a little longer than intended, since I couldn't figure out a suitable place to stop, and one scene decided it wanted to flesh itself out a bit more. Also, just so everyone understands, I've got the story plot more or less planned out, at least a fourth of the way, so everything's more or less going according to plan. Let's have a blast, yeah?

If you happen to see any mistakes in spelling, or missed punctuation, please let me know. I don't have a beta reader, and I'm rather lax when rereading...

* * *

><p>Shirou picked up a piece of the banana bread, looking it over. He preferred cooking, and wasn't much of a pastry chef or baker. He could make simple things like gooey, chocolate chip cookies, but breads and pastries were far beyond him. In a way, that made eating the morsels all that much more delicious, though he did wish he could have made one or two different dishes for Rin and himself. Rin hadn't been able to make many desserts either, so if they had wanted something sweet, the two had been forced to visit a patisserie or bakery and buy them. That in itself was fine, but without a doubt, Shirou thought as he took a bite out of the slice, home-cooked food had to be the best over all else.<p>

Myrus, however, was a baker by trade, second only to being a mage. It had nearly been a week since the two had met, but Shirou thought they got along fairly well. At the very least, he had never been bored.

"Hey, bro, I've got three new things for you to try," Myrus said, holding two plates as he walked out of his kitchen. "They're a couple of new experiments. I've added a little special something to all of them."

The red-head turned around, sighing slightly. One thing that struck him as odd about the other man was his need to foist all of his food experiments onto Shirou. He wasn't particularly against being a guinea pig, but once one invention was given to him, there was never a second of the same kind. Shirou wasn't even sure whether each test proved a success or not – every dish he had tried had tasted great to him.

Myrus set the two plates on the coffee table in front of him and placed his hands on his hips. "I guarantee that you'll love these. Oh crap," Myrus said with a frown, looking back towards the kitchen. "I forgot the drink. Hang on a sec."

"You made a drink, too?" Shirou asked, surprised.

"Nah, bought it at the store. I did add a little something to it, too, though."

Shirou made a small grin – Myrus was a bit clumsy at times, always forgetting one thing or another. His knowledge of magic was definitely high-class, though. While Shirou had never actually seen Myrus perform any techniques, there was no way he could've missed the rows and rows of books about magic all across the house. He'd also had the luxury to visit Myrus' workshop, which was a bit odd as well. Most magus' would never allow another magus to see their workshop – it was their private place, where no one else could enter. It contained all of their secrets and mysteries, and knowledge of these secrecies could bring about their downfall. Myrus didn't really seem to care though, but then again, he didn't seem to care all that much about anything. He was just a down-to-earth, cool, easygoing guy.

Just about to reach for a fork to dig into the two desserts, Shirou jumped when he felt his cell phone start vibrating. Taking it out of his back pocket, he looked at the display to see who was calling.

"Gah," he muttered with a grimace. "It's Rin..."

Shirou stood up, heading towards the front door. Waving back at Myrus as he pressed the "accept" button, he called out, "Hey, I've got to take this call. I'll be outside for a bit."

"Then I'm going to rummage me up some grub," Myrus replied in kind. "Take your time, daddy-o."

The second Shirou stepped outside, he hurriedly put the phone to his ear, wincing when Rin started yelling at him.

"You idiot, where the hell have you been? I know you aren't working or anything, since you would _never _try to cause me any trouble while I'm gone, _right_?"

"Uh, yeah," Shirou murmured, eyes askance. "Never..."

"But seriously, where have you been? I tried calling the house phone, and whenever I called your cell, it always sent me directly to voicemail..."

She sounded concerned, and Shirou felt a bit of guilt creep up. "I've just been out strolling, seeing the sights...making friends..."

"Friends?"

"Yeah, there's this guy that just moved into the same house that one guy used to live in. You know, the guy who was 'disposed' of? He's a mage, too, and he's really strong. You wouldn't believe the number of books this guy has. Oh, and his name is Myrus. He was born and raised here, but he's been hopping off all around the world, learning new stuff. And can you believe that he likes to cook, too? It's like we were destined to be friends."

"Oh..." came Rin's voice through the phone. She sounded somewhat relieved and skeptical at the same time.

"Well, I'm glad you're safe, but, I don't know, Shirou. Something about all of that doesn't seem, well, normal, you know? I mean, what are the chances that a new mage would move in, become your friend just like that, and happen to have the same interests as you? Something about that just isn't settling right for me."

"Oh, come on, Rin," Shirou argued. "I hardly have any friends here, and now that I've made one, you think he's just someone who's somehow targeted me for some inane reason?"

"Look, if he's a good guy, and you really think you can trust him, that's fine, Shirou," she responded, still sounding troubled. "But, this wouldn't be the first time you've been tricked by another mage. I mean, you make it hard to _not_ trick you, what with how naïve you are."

He grunted slightly, grudgingly acknowledging her worry. He had been tricked a number of times over the years, and each time, Rin had needed to bail him out of trouble. Shirou just honestly didn't want to believe people would think to hurt before helping others. In his mind, people were inherently good – it's just that circumstances would work against them and turn them towards a darker path. He would prefer to blindly trust and believe in others instead of doubting them from the start and potentially missing out on wonderful relationships. He was still an idealist, after all.

"Yeah, and you always had to give me a hand," Shirou sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as a nervous gesture. "Guess I'm on my own this time around."

"Don't say something so discouraging! I can't deal with that from five thousand miles away, Shirou."

"When are you coming back?"

Shirou head a slight pause, before Rin said resignedly, "Well, that's why I called in the first place. Something...unplanned took place, and my time here has been extended a bit longer."

"How long's a bit longer?"

"Just a few days... Maybe even up to a week. Or, hell, maybe if I can come up with something, I'll be on a flight home tomorrow. I have no idea of what's going on though, Shirou. Well, I mean, I do, but I'm not sure how to go about dealing with it."

"Huh," was the only response Shirou could come up with. Well, Rin didn't seem all _that_ concerned, which meant it was something she was more than able to deal with – it was just a pain for her to do so.

"Yeah, so, seriously, be careful, okay?" she warned him again. "Trusting others is, well, honestly, I think it's ridiculously stupid, but noble, in a way, I guess? Make sure to check whatever food he gives you for poison and try not to, I don't know, fall asleep at his place. Although, I suppose there wouldn't be a need to, considering how close you are to home."

It was at that exact moment that Shirou knew better than to say he had already spent the night at Myrus' a couple of times. He had also completely forgotten to check all the food items for poison, but...since nothing had happened yet, he was sure that Myrus meant no harm. Sure, it had only been about a week since they had met, but, Myrus had had more than enough opportunities to kill him, if necessary, or make him into a familiar or a puppet or something. Yeah, Myrus was just a good guy, through and through. That was the stance Shirou was determined to take until the other man proved otherwise.

"Okay, okay, I'll be careful."

"Who knows? He might be some kind of sex deviant interested in harvesting your nether parts for some kind of séance of sorts."

Shirou coughed, Rin's comment having taken him by surprise. After hitting his chest a few times, he cleared his throat and breathed out slowly.

"Geez, Rin, what the hell?"

"I'm just saying that you'd never know that by just looking at him, right? Just saying."

"Man, I think I'm going to throw up. I'm hanging up!"

"All right, fine," laughed Rin, obviously amused. "I'll get in touch with you later, when I'm sure about when I'll be home."

Shirou felt like he couldn't press the "end call" button fast enough. How the heck was he supposed to look at Myrus now, after being told he "might" be a sexual deviant out to get him. Wait, no, no, Myrus would never do something that horrid. Taking in a deep breath, Shirou groaned as he turned back towards Myrus' house. Now Rin had him feeling jumpy and wary.

"Freaking demon," he muttered, opening the door and stomping into the house.

Myrus stared at him from the couch, blue eyes opened wide. "Whoa, dude, something bite you in the butt or something? Or, what, get some bad news, maybe?"

Shirou plopped onto the couch and rested his head on the back of it. "You have no idea. Hey," he said, turning to Myrus, "are you an evil person out to kill me and use my nether parts for some kind of evil, sick séance or experiment, or something?"

Myrus stared at him for a few seconds, mouth agape. "Wait, how'd you know? Yeah, I'm a wizard here to force you to do my bidding, and disguise different potions and spells as various desserts and treats. What else would I be?"

Then Myrus burst out laughing at Shirou's deer-in-the-headlights expression. "I wouldn't say I'm evil, though."

Shirou sighed. "Yeah, I knew that sounded stupid as soon as I said it."

"Eh, well, you tried though, man," Myrus said with a smile, patting Shirou's back as the latter sat forward. "We can't all get the answer right all the time."

"I guess."

"Now, eat up! These luscious dishes have just been waiting to be devoured!"

Shirou felt his stomach rumble slightly at the mention of food. Staring down at the two different plates, he licked his lips – they looked amazingly delicious.

"Myrus, you've outdone yourself this time! These look even better than everything else you've made! So, what am I looking at here?"

Myrus pointed first towards the darker cake, grinning. "A Black Forest cake, complete with strawberry butter icing, and a touch of mulberry on the top. 'But Myrus, that combination sounds odd and horrible!' No, my dear, you have yet to understand and appreciate the true virtue of chocolate! Not only is it versatile, but it makes everything else something only dreams could possibly be made of!"

"Whoa," Shirou breathed out, reaching for the fork on the table.

"But the brilliance does not stop there!" exclaimed the other man. "For behold and feast your eyes upon my next masterpiece. Hailing all the way from the land of Latin America, see the brilliance that is the Tres Leches cake! A wonderful morsel that winds together three different kinds of milks and turns them into an amazing piece!"

Shirou was nodding along, already digging into the chocolate cake. "Mm, mm!"

"And lastly, some goat milk, with a little special something. Bon appétit!"

"Man, this stuff is so good!" Shirou managed out, already having finished the Black Forest cake and moved onto the sponge cake. "Whoa, this tastes good, too!"

Taking a swig of the milk, he looked down at the bottle, tilted his head slightly, and downed the rest of it quickly. Turning back to the Tres Leches cake, he inhaled the last two bites, set the plate down, and patted his stomach as he lay back against the couch cushions.

"Holy crap, I'm totally full," he said with a satisfied smile on his face. "No evil mage could make something that amazing over and over again."

"Glad you enjoyed it!" Myrus said, his chest puffed out with pride. "I've been working on those two dishes for a long time now!"

"You were raised in England right? How do you know so much about other cultures' foods?"

Myrus smiled, rotating his index finger around as he said, "I've been all over the world. Cape Cod, Los Angeles, Timbuktu, Perth, St. Petersburg, Haiti, Rio de Janeiro, all over. I like Britain, but there's no way I could stay here forever. Coming back every once in a while isn't too bad, though."

"You look like you're my age, though. Where'd you come up with that kind of cash?"

"Well, my family's rich, for one," Myrus replied. "I'm poor, but they're rich, and believe in a wholesome education, which means going around the world and exploring all there is to offer. And two, I'm way older than you, kiddo. Like, by at least ten years."

Shirou gaped at him. "No way! I thought you were maybe twenty-five, or twenty-six! Whoa."

"Then I can only thank my genetics for that. I'm seriously getting up there in my years. I need to settle down and have some kids or something, maybe."

"You have a girl in mind?"

"I used to," Myrus murmured wistfully. "She was a beauty, always eager to know more and more. But then one day, something just clicked for me, and I realized I was getting into a pretty abusive relationship. Nearly cost me my life."

Shirou frowned, and leaned forward to as he thought over Myrus' words. "Do you mean she tried to kill you?"

"Yeah. She tried."

"How'd you get away?"

"Just shifted gears a bit. Escaped and journeyed to someplace new, someplace far. A place where she would never be able to reach me. I go back every now and then, but, she's either since forgotten about me, or doesn't think I'm worth her time anymore."

"Did you love her?"

"Yeah. Still do."

The auburn-haired man's eyebrows knitted slightly. He wasn't sure he would be able to leave a relationship like that, even if his life were on the line. It was difficult to consider, but knowing himself, he would be more likely to stick with the person and see if he could persuade her otherwise instead of running away. Running away was the smarter decision, but Shirou honestly felt that anything or anyone worth loving was something or someone worth sticking close to, no matter what. Saber... The night he summoned Saber changed his life completely – some might think it for the better, others, for worse. Because of her being summoned, he had gone through hell and back, experienced things he would never again wish to repeat, loved and hated, hurt and healed, gained and lost. Had his luck been any worse, or had he not made the decisions he had, he possibly could have even died by Saber's hands... If he hadn't decided to fight and stick with her the entire way, what would she have done to him in return? Would she have killed him?

Shaking his head, he quickly quelled that thought. No, this was Saber he was talking about. First of all, even if he had decided to stop fighting, her chivalric code would have never allowed her to kill an innocent. Aside of that, she was simply too good-hearted to do anything like that. She killed out of necessity, not desire. No, despite all of the, to put it plainly, shit, that he had to go through with her, he could never imagine having left her side, even if it had been guaranteed to cause him his own death.

Shirou closed his eyes, lips pressed firmly into a line. Myrus watched him carefully.

"I take it you disagree with my decision? That I should have stayed with her no matter what?"

"I don't disagree," Shirou said, denying the observation. "I think that was probably the healthiest choice possible. I'm just not sure I would've been able to do that myself."

"Well, it _was_ pretty hard," Myrus said, jokingly. "That girl was like cocaine. Intoxicating, and yet such a horrible thing for me to be addicted to."

Shirou couldn't come up with anything to say in turn, but jumped slightly when Myrus clapped his hands together and then snapped.

"But enough of this crazy, mushy, really, really depressing crap. What about you, buddy? You got a girl? Harboring a forbidden love?"

"You could say that," Shirou said, laughing. "Yeah, I have a girl who I'm still head over heels for."

"Sweet, I smell a story. Spill, bro!"

"Well, there's not much to say, I guess," the younger man started saying, looking down at his hands. "The day I first laid eyes on her, I was hooked. She was strong, courageous, independent, idealistic, and righteous... Everything she did, and I mean absolutely everything, was the for the sake of those she loved. Never did she do anything for herself. It was more like, she never considered herself as anything other than a catalyst to cultivate good in others. She was an avatar, not a person. She loved, but was never loved back. She fought for others' sakes, but was betrayed as a direct result of living for her ideals, instead of living for her humanity. I guess you could say she was pure."

"Hmm," Myrus muttered, eyes downcast. "You keep using past tense, though. Did she...?"

"Yeah, she died," Shirou said, looking up towards the ceiling. "It's funny, though. I was only with her for two weeks, but I feel like we were together for years. What I wouldn't give to see her again."

He yawned, then, covering his mouth with a hand. "Crap, eating all of that food made me tired."

Myrus laughed, patting Shirou on the back. "Nah, all this depressing talk just really got you down, I bet. Hey, why not just take a quick nap on the couch here? I'll wake you in a couple of hours, before it gets too late."

"You sure? I mean, I don't want to keep you for too long."

"Nah, you're good, man, you're good."

Myrus stood up and stacked up the dirty plates and glass. "I'm going to go study for a bit. Don't worry, bro. Just sleep up."

"Yeah, thanks," Shirou said, yawning again.

He shifted around, lying along the length of the couch, hands behind his head as he looked up at the ceiling. _Saber..._

* * *

><p>He grudgingly slowly woke up as someone started nudging his shoulder.<p>

"Come on, bro. Wakey wakey."

Shirou opened his bleary eyes bit by bit, them slowly adjusting to darkness around him, and the soft, gentle blue light. He closed his eyes tightly and blinked them open a few more times, his drowsiness making him want to go back into the realm of sleep. Shaking his head back and forth a couple of times, Shirou groaned a bit.

"Ugh, what time is it? I feel like I only fell asleep for a few minutes."

"It's been more than a few minutes, mate. More like a few hours."

"What?" Shirou exclaimed, quickly waking up. "It's already that late?"

He attempted to sit up before realizing he couldn't move a single part of his body aside of his head. Confused, Shirou turned his head around in every direction he could manage, first looking over at both of his arms. He tightened his muscles, felt his hand clench tightly into a fist, and watched as his coiled muscles trembled slightly as he tried to move them. While he couldn't look down at his lower body, he assumed it was more or less in the same state.

"What's going on?" he muttered, bewildered. He looked up and tried to see over to where his friend was. "Hey, Myrus, I can't move. I mean, I'm not paralyzed or anything, but it's like there's something pressing my body down and..."

He stopped talking when he saw Myrus' shoulders slump in, was that disappointment? Shirou's breath caught in his throat when the raven-haired man turned to look at him, peering down as if he were a bug meant to be squashed. Gone was the carefree countenance, replaced by an air of superiority and ice-cold blue eyes. Shirou watched silently, heart rate starting to slowly increase as he saw Myrus walk towards him and lean down on one knee beside him.

"Myrus, what's –"

"I'm simply astonished," were the first words out of Myrus' mouth, as he patted Shirou's cheek. "Your friend even warned you not to freely walk into traps without taking the proper steps to ensure your safety, and yet you still, like an absolute fool, blindly trusted me. Trusted me, a man you have hardly known even a week."

Shirou felt a tub of ice water had been dumped into his veins, and gritted his teeth as he glared up at Myrus. "So, you were just targeting me. Are you planning to kill me?"

"Heavens no, boy," Myrus said with a frown. "True, I needed not have worked as hard as I did to lure you in, considering how absolutely naïve you are, but I have no intention to kill you. That would do nothing but have put my effort to waste."

Shirou closed his eyes and turned his head away. Not only had Myrus' tone changed, but his way of speaking had changed as well, as if he was a different person altogether. No, he hadn't changed, Shirou realized, concentrating inwardly on his magic circuit. He had just taken on a persona that would be most likely to make Shirou drop his guard quickest. He clenched his right fist tightly – the magic holding him down was insanely complicated, and he would need a lot more time to dispel it., which meant he had to keep Myrus' occupied enough to do so.

A muscle in Shirou's job jumped as he ground his teeth together. "So, what are you going to do to me?"

"I would much like to kill you," Myrus said, and Shirou had to give him kudos for being so honest.

"However," the older man continued, "I am obligated to fulfill my promise."

"Promise?"

"You see, that girl you spoke of... I am quite well aware of who she is," Myrus stated as he fiddled with something on his work desk. He heard Shirou grunt slightly and frowned deeper. "It only serves to perplex me on how she could manage to fall in love with a simpleton such as yourself. Alas, it is not my place to second-guess the king's emotions – they are hers, after all."

He knew Saber? Shirou narrowed his closed eyes, feeling magic start feeding out to every part of his body. If Myrus knew Saber, then maybe he had been around during the fifth Holy Grail War, or maybe even during the fourth. No, if it had been the fourth, then Saber and he wouldn't have met yet. Maybe he was related to one of the Masters from the war? That couldn't be either – the couple hadn't exactly broadcasted their relationship for the entire world to know. Could he be related to Kotomine?

"A fool granted the luck of God, and the skill of a troll. Yes, how you managed to secure her heart, that is something of which I will never understand."

"So, if you're not going to kill me, then what are you going to do?" Shirou asked for a second time, grunting as the magic seemed to burn all of his nerves.

"It's simple, my dear lad," Myrus replied, turning around to smile cruelly. "I will have you pay for the crime you have committed upon her."

Shirou opened his eyes and looked over at the man. "If you're talking about how we had sex, I don't think that's –"

"Good Lord, lad, are you daft?" Myrus barked. "If she chose to open herself to you, then you should only be grateful that she believed you worthy of doing so. No, boy, I mean the crime you committed when you forced her to destroy the Holy Grail."

"I didn't force her," muttered Shirou. "She told me to tell her to do that..."

"You used a Command Spell, did you not? You fool, no Servant could destroy their birthplace of their own volition! It is as obvious as the unspoken rule that one would not cause harm to his or her parents!"

Inwardly, Shirou wondered how Myrus seemed to know so much about the Holy Grail War, but then again, everyone else seemed to always know everything about it, except for him. How though, did Myrus know about him ordering Saber to destroy it? And, while he was thinking about it, how was that a crime? He closed his eyes, breathing in as he noticed his body was ready.

Shirou sent the magic flying out of his hands as he yelled, "_Fury of Earth, Unbind_!"

The barrier holding him down temporarily dissipated, and Shirou pulled up his legs and kicked up off of the ground, swirling around and flipping backwards. Quickly projecting six daggers, and holding them between his fingers, Shirou swiftly threw them at Myrus, and then jumped backwards again.

Myrus hardly glanced at the knives as a magical barrier materialized in front of him, sending the daggers flying in every which direction. Lifting up a hand, Myrus said,

"Depths of Night: Wrap and Bind."

Shirou had already projected his two favorite swords, Kanshou and Bakuya, and was quickly charging in towards Myrus. He came to an abrupt stop and flipped backwards again as tendrils of darkness reached out for him from around him. Releasing his projection magic, Shirou spun, swirled, flipped, and dodged around to avoid each tendril, acting as if they were an extension of Angra Mainyu himself.

He quickly whispered, "I am the bone of my sword..."

Myrus narrowed his eyes as Shirou continued chanting quickly, each word flowing into the next making a mixture of letters. Shirou slid forward on his stomach underneath a couple of tendrils before using his upper body to lift up his legs and push up off the ground into the air. He spun backwards again, before hopping up off his right leg and spinning his entire body in the air to escape more tendrils.

"Steel is my body and fire is my blood," Shirou muttered quickly, one word barely out of his mouth before he said the next. "I have created over a thousand blades. Unaware of loss, nor aware of gain. Withstood pain to create weapons, waiting for one's arrival. I have no regrets –"

Shirou quickly shifted his head left, even while his body was gravitating right to avoid a tendril shaped as a black dagger. "This is the only path!"

He quickly replicated ten daggers above his head, and sent them flying to entrap the darkness directly beside him. "My whole life was..."

Myrus held up both of his hands, palms facing towards him, and spread his arms out, glowing white magic trailing thereafter. The mage clenched his hands into fists and then thrust both fists in front of him, opening each hand wide as the white magic began to disperse. Shirou jumped up high into the air, once again projecting Kanshou and Bakuya and the moment he met the barrier of white magic, just as it started to wrap and tighten around him, roared out,

"_UNLIMITED BLADE WORKS!_"

Within nanoseconds, the reality of Myrus' lab was soon replaced with a barren field, weapons of all different shapes and sizes scattered in every which direction for miles. Large cogged gears slowly turned above the two men in the distance and Shirou immediately called forth two unnamed swords, holding one in each hand as he leveled his gaze at Myrus.

Myrus glanced around himself a bit, raising an eyebrow while doing so. "I see. This is your Reality Marble, then, Shirou. How fortunate that I had the chance to see it."

"Enough talking," Shirou replied calmly, voice deeper than usual. "I didn't train all of these years just to be beaten by someone like you."

"Someone like me? Dear boy, have you any idea of who I am?"

"No, and I don't care," responded Shirou. "I just know you're in my way."

Myrus barely saw Shirou's hair shift slightly before the auburn-haired man raced towards him like a flash of red light. His golden-brown eyes were like that of a tiger, focused on his prey as he neared ever closer to it. Myrus barely managed a step back before Shirou appeared in front of him, slashing both swords at every vulnerable point he could reach. Myrus shook off each strike with his white magic, eyes darting back and forth before he jumped back out of Shirou's range.

"You're far too optimistic," Shirou warned, the swords vanishing and a bow appearing in his hand. "My eyes will track you down no matter where you go."

In a flash, he let loose three swords, each one filled to the brim with his magic as they bore down on the escaping mage. Myrus whirled around, hand high in the air as he created a fool-proof barrier, successfully keeping himself safe. As soon as his first barrier dissolved, he had to erect another far stronger one as this time, ten swords came crashing down around him. His blue eyes narrowed slightly as the smoke cleared and he saw ten, twenty, fifty-two, seventy-five...no, one hundred swords float up into the air over Shirou.

"Escape this if you can!" yelled Shirou, pushing his body to the max as each weapon turned towards Myrus and darted straight towards the raven-haired man.

"Even I wouldn't survive that mess," muttered Myrus, as magic started to form around him. "It's been fun, but I'm ending this charade of yours, boy."

Shirou saw the burst of magic before he felt it, seeing the large ball of magic tower above him and his many swords before the magic swept down like a large wave of water, slamming into him and nearly drowning him in its depths. He felt, more than saw, his Reality Marble start crumbling down from the excess magic of his enemy, and felt his body start to be constricted by an outside source. The Reality Marble vanished entirely as Shirou fell to the ground in the middle of an engraved circle. He struggled, trying to loosen the bonds around him, but this was magic he had never encountered before. It felt almost corporeal, but was completely out of his league in terms of ability.

He forced his head up to stare at the man standing over him. After watching him a bit, Myrus took a step back and snapped his fingers, and within moments, the circle began to glow and a circular barrier shot up to the ceiling, encasing Shirou. As soon as the barrier materialized, Shirou's restraints disappeared, and the man shot up from the ground. His heart raced as he looked around him, knowing he could never take down whatever that barrier thing was.

"Good show, boy, good show," Myrus said, grudgingly acknowledging Shirou's fighting prowess. "The way she spoke of you before dying made it seem as if you, while a good lad, were somewhat useless without someone else around."

"Damn it, who is this 'she' you keep talking about?" yelled Shirou, irritated that he couldn't figure out a way to escape his current circumstances.

"None other than the one you knew as Saber – Arturia Pendragon, better known as King Arthur."

As soon as he heard that name, Shirou train of thought came to an abrupt halt, and he glared up at Myrus. "Don't you dare," he growled out, clenching his hands into fists, "talk about her in front of me!"

He raced forward and slammed his body into the barrier, and bounced back from it, rolling across the ground. Breathing hard, he shifted onto all fours, head bowed as he cursed himself for being so weak. Shirou slammed a fist against the concrete floor as hard as he could to satisfy his anger, indenting it slightly. Myrus continued staring at him, arms crossed over his chest.

"Are you finished?"

"Shut up!" Shirou snarled. "When I get out of here..."

"Rejoice child," Myrus said, and Shirou raised his head, glaring at the other man, "for I no longer have any desire to kill you. Rather, you have intrigued me. You might actually be able to hold your own at this rate."

"Why don't you start making some sense?"

"You recall that I said you must pay for the crime you have you committed? Due to your actions, Arturia has been reduced to living what she could only describe as Hell. A Hell she would never have wished for in a million years. She died a death full of suffering."

Shirou stood up, brows furrowed as he tried to comprehend what the other magus was saying. "You're saying that I made her suffer?"

"Quite so. You may not realize it, but while Arturia did indeed destroy the grail, that only served to spite the baby whose birth she denied. Angra Mainyu was quite angry because of your actions, but despite you being the one who ordered her to do so, she was punished in turn. When she returned to that bloody hill complete with the dead bodies of her soldiers and that of her son, or shall I say, daughter, Mordred, she did not die."

"What?" Shirou asked, his voice full of disbelief. "She didn't die?"

"No, boy, she most certainly did not. She survived. Imagine the hell she lived, being bound as she was, and you dare say that none of that has anything to do with you?"

Myrus kept staring at him, hoping his point had been driven home well enough. "Well, lad, do you still think you owe her nothing?"

"...No, I mean, if that's true, then how would you...?"

Shirou paused, a fleeting thought crossing his mind. As soon as he considered it, his shoulders slumped slightly. "I see, now I know who you are. No one from that time period who knew her could be here right now, except for one person. Geez, I never thought that could be possible," Shirou muttered, combing his fingers through his hair.

"The ancient wizard, Merlin," Shirou continued, his hand dropping to his side. "I see, 'Myrus' comes from the names "Myrddin" and "Merlinus". The girl you talked about earlier today must refer to Vivian, the Lady of the Lake. You should have died in that tomb, though. How are you still alive?"

"I told you I ran away, didn't I? I'll leave it up to you to guess how."

"Hmph," Shirou grunted, crossing his arms over his chest again. "I get it now. So after Saber died, you must have traveled to this time period and sought me out. Hate to tell you this, but it's been seven years since she vanished."

"Time traveling is an art, son," Myrus rebuked, shrugging. "You can't expect even me to be able to zero in on the exact time and date."

"Whatever. I kind of get what's going on now," Shirou said, cocking his hip. "So, you want to me to go back into the past to prevent her downfall from taking place."

"Fool, you've already angered one hailed as a god, and now you intend to test Fate as well?"

"I'm already on a roll," Shirou replied with a smirk. "In for a penny, in for a pound, as the saying goes."

"Then you consent to this journey?"

"Hah, like I had a choice from the start. Might as well give it my all."

Myrus looked at him carefully. "You may never return to this time, boy."

Shirou seemed slightly conflicted – he hadn't wanted to cause Rin any problems, but it seemed like he wouldn't be able to keep that promise. Even if he did go to the past though, what could he possibly do? Saber, no, Arturia didn't know who the heck he was, he wasn't a knight, he wasn't all that much of a mage or a fighter, either, and he knew he couldn't just walk straight up into the castle proclaiming, "Hey, I'm here to save the king!"

He would be kicked out, or maybe even executed on account of stupidity. Shirou gave Myrus a quick glance before looking away. No, he couldn't count on the Merlin in the past to help him, because that Merlin didn't know about the problem or who he was yet. This Merlin had already known of the king's fall, and apparently what she had gone through as a Servant. Wait, so how long had she lived before finally dying after returning to her own time? How long had she suffered?

Shirou clapped a hand over his face, a gesture he had learned from Rin. He had thought that everything would return to normal for the both of them – she would die without regret and he would continue living, strengthening himself to become a man she would find worthy of her. Sighing, he shook his head. All right, he was ready.

He squared his shoulders, facing Myrus head on. "That's fine. Even if I die in her time, I won't allow myself to regret a single thing. If I'm going to die, I'd rather do it by her side."

Myrus raised an eyebrow, snorting slightly. "You only make me desire to antagonize you further boy, but good. Had you been opposed to journeying back, the dimensional travel would have caused you much pain along the way."

Shirou raised his eyebrows, about to comment on what Myrus had said when the other man threw a tote bag through the barrier and straight into him. He caught it with a small grunt, and held the fading leather bag in his hands. It was heavy, full of who knew what. Then he narrowed his eyes at the barrier – it was prepared as a one-way portal, where anything could go inside, but nothing would ever get back out. Well, there was no point in trying to escape now, though.

"Those are supplies, and some clothing. If you arrive there looking like you do now, you'll be the laughingstock of the entire country. Hurry and change while I make the final preparations."

Shirou grunted again, bending down as he set the bag on the ground. Fiddling with the buckle, he pulled the top lid off and looked inside. There was a bag of something that smelled pretty good, some medical supplies – he didn't think ibuprofen actually existed back then, but whatever – and some clothes, as promised. Shirou pulled out the heavy white, long-sleeved tunic, with red trimming along the base of the shirt and the collar. It was of a simple make, with light blue dyed into sleeves. He wasn't sure about the fabric – cotton? – but it was slightly scratchy and stiff; it wasn't like anything a person could find in the modern world, obviously.

Turning to look back into the bag, he found a pair of black breeches, and a set of long stockings and boots. He looked from one article to another and then back at Myrus, whose back was turned. Slightly disgruntled that he had to wear clothes like these, – they seemed new, too – he sighed, and started peeling off his sweatshirt. He had just pulled off his jeans when Myrus said,

"Take off the boxers, too. Those don't exist yet."

Shirou stared at him, slightly mortified. "There's no way in hell I'm going to take these off. No one's going to see them anyway!"

"Huh, suit yourself."

Shirou grabbed the tunic and pulled it over his head, slipping his arms into the sleeves. Yeah, it was incredibly scratchy, but he'd probably get used to it sooner or later. The breeches came next, and he pulled them up to find that they were a bit snug, but manageable. He pulled the drawstring at the waist to make sure they wouldn't be falling down anytime soon, and then pulled on his white stockings. Tightening the buckles of the breeches just below his knees, Shirou then slipped on the leather boots, and after he was completely done, he realized something:

"This outfit has to be the most uncomfortable thing I have ever had on."

"I told you to get rid of the boxers."

"It has nothing to do with my boxers, damn it!"

Shirou scratched his chest a bit, before reaching behind to scratch his butt. "I could sure use some fabric softener right about now..."

"Stop your complaining," Myrus ordered, turning back to face Shirou again. "I've finished all the necessities, and the only thing left is to send you back."

"So what," Shirou started, spreading his arms out wide, "do I have to say some crazy incantation or oath or whatever to get this ball rolling?"

"Of course not. I just say a word and off you go."

"Well, that's anti-climatic," Shirou said, pouting slightly. "I was expecting a bunch of lights, crazy incantations, balls of fire, the works. At least give me the satisfaction of something to brag about to my friend, if I ever happen to make it back."

Then a certain question came to him after he had finished complaining: "Wait, back then, the Britons were fighting against the Saxons, right? They didn't speak English, and obviously not Japanese, so how do I go about communicating with them? I'm not really all that great at languages."

Myrus sighed, turning back to him. "Have you really not noticed that you have been speaking to me in Brythonic this entire time?"

Shirou stared at him, stunned. "What? What are you talking about? Aren't we speaking English?"

"Fool, your English ability isn't enough to sustain a conversation of this level. I have prepared you suitably, so you need not concern yourself with the details. You have the same spoken ability as a plebeian. I should only hope you have enough sense to speak more properly when you come in contact with the court."

"B-but, I just spoke with Rin and she –"

"The brain is a miraculous thing," Myrus replied, rolling his eyes. "To think one could automatically switch between languages without some sort of problem cropping up."

Shirou scowled at him. He knew it was odd that he could state all of his feelings clearly and without messing up, but it never occurred to him that Myrus had basically been drugging him from the very start. He must have inserted small doses into every food Shirou had tried, culminating in a self-sufficient ability to speak a different language flawlessly. Shirou had had no idea whatsoever, and that scared him a bit. Had Myrus had less than noble intentions originally, Shirou realized he might not have made it to the second day of their "friendship".

"Damn it," he muttered, bending down to stuff in his clothes into the pack and then close the lid. "I was completely duped."

Shirou stood back up, hefting the bag up and slipping his arms through the straps. Myrus turned back around and then started to circle the barrier, pouring out a liquid along the way. Shirou followed him with his eyes, until Myrus had made a full circuit.

"What's that stuff?"

"A precaution, to ensure the backlash from opening a time-dimensional portal will not bleed out any further than this."

Myrus clapped his hands together when he finished and then turned to look at the man stuck within the barrier. "Now, I will release the energy necessary to open the portal, and do not worry, I do this all the time."

"Right..." came the dry reply.

"A final word of caution, boy," Myrus continued seriously, a hand on his hip. "Do not so readily release your Reality Marble, or project anything, at all. I doubt it need be said, but take great pains not to project something which has not been invented by that point in time. If others see technology beyond their scope of understanding, you may encounter more problems than you are ready to undertake. In addition, if you are actually capable of it, do be a little more assertive in establishing your safety. Not everyone in King Arthur's time will be nearly as kind as I was to you. They will kill you, without hesitation."

"Can we just get this over with?" asked Shirou, looking bored as he watched the liquid Myrus had poured bubble up slightly. "I'd like to get there before, you know, I start growing grey hairs."

"Petulant to the end, aren't you?" Myrus said, grinning. "Release."

Shirou felt his body abruptly shift down quickly, taken him by surprise.

"What?" he said, bewildered, as his body began to sink into the ground. "Oh, hey, this isn't that ba–"

Then, almost as abruptly as he had sunken, Shirou felt his body blasted up through the rotating crest above him. Myrus grinned evilly as he heard a telling scream as the other man went through the portal.

* * *

><p>"AAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!" Shirou yelled, his body twisting and turning as he was forced through a narrow passage within absolute, pitch-black darkness.<p>

His body would jerk one way before he would best catapulting in the entirely opposite direction. Shirou felt his torso spiral forward as if he were top-heavy before he was pushed back around in a nearly never-ending flip. He spun so much he felt like his brain was turning into gravy and he was only alive by sheer will.

"That assho-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-ole!" he screamed as his body flipped back upright and shot straight into a tunnel of white.

His body shot to the right suddenly, making him groan. "Oh God, let me off of this damn roller coaster..."

Then, almost as if he'd never gone through that traumatic experience, his body slowed down incredibly, and he drifted now through a tunnel of flashing, glowing lights. The light swirled all around him, but all Shirou could do was hope that none of his vomit had somehow managed to stick to him. He knew he had to be about as green as he felt, though the swirling lights around him did make the experience somewhat better.

"Man, he really is an asshole. He could've told me that there really were going to be flashing li–"

And, just as he was about to finish his complaint, his body was hurled forward at a speed unrivaled, and he found himself so out of breath that he couldn't even let out a single scream. The last thing he remembered seeing was something full of green before he shot out of the tunnel and slammed into something incredibly hard.

Shirou stared at the ground where he lay, unmoving, nor desiring to even move. His breath was raspy from screaming so much, and his hands were trembling from the fear he had experienced. His lips quivered slightly, and he had to blink his eyes a few times to make sure that he wasn't blind. He turned his head back and forth, his body shuddering as he tried to push himself up from the grassy land. Shirou grunted, forcing his body to move as he desired. He looked to his right, and barely saw the dimensional portal crest close up as if it had never existed, and the trail his body had made as it slid across the ground. There was no longer any grass left, just a shallow ditch of dirt and rocks.

Sitting back, his legs folded beneath him, he breathed in and out readily, still shaken from the event. Myrus had said it would have hurt far more had he opposed the travel – the trip had nearly killed him this time around. What would have happened if he'd been stubborn to the end then? Looking down at his hands, he cradled one inside of the other, frowning as he tried to control his trembling. Shirou took in a deep breath before chomping down on his right hand. The pain immediately flooded his system and he felt his fear fade away.

"Guh," he muttered, leaning forward on his arms. "That was Hell. There is no way in hell I'm ever doing that shit ever again."

Sighing, he shifted back again before finally pushing himself up off of the ground. After dusting himself off as much as he could manage, Shirou hefted his pack up on his shoulders, and tied the buckles on the straps more tightly.

"All right. I'm here. Now, let's take a look ar–"

As soon as he had looked up, he felt his eyes widen incredibly when he'd taken a glimpse of the scenery around him. Green was, again, the first thing to pop in his mind as his gaze looked over the rolling fields of grassy plains and hills. A gentle breeze blew ran across the hills, flowing across the grass, large, strong, oak trees, and ruffling through their plentiful leaves. Shirou gaped as he stared down at one of the lakes below him, unsullied, pure, clean, and devoid of the pollution and crap the modern world had put their waters. He bent down to look better at the fish jumping through the air and gliding slightly before plopping back into the pristine waters from where he sat on an overreaching cliff. He looked up into the sky next, seeing the fluffy, white clouds flowing across a crystal-clear blue sky. His short hair flowed back and forth as the wind flowed over it, and he looked down at the ground under his feet, unable to comprehend that he really was in a time entirely different from what he was used to.

Shirou gripped his tote bag straps more tightly as he turned and proceeded to slowly walk down the hill towards the lake he had seen. Approaching it cautiously, he peered across its waters at the few families of ducks quacking from the lake's surface. Every now and then, birds here and there would duck down and grab a flying fish before hastily retreating back into the air with their meal. Shirou kneeled down to the water's edge, cupping his hand and scooping up some water to drink. Swallowing it down, he laughed and fell backwards onto the grass. It was absolutely delicious!

Something clicked in his mind though, and he quickly sat up when he realized what he was doing, or rather, wasn't doing. Shirou jumped to his feet, running his fingers through his hair.

"Ugh, what am I doing? I can appreciate the nature later," he said to himself, letting out a deep sigh. "I've got to find my way to Camelot and get myself situated. Now then, where to go...?"

He looked at the plains to his left leading to nothingness, and then to the right, at plains leading to nothingness. Shirou didn't have a clue of where he was, but he couldn't see even a single town or village anywhere close by. He kept looking in both directions as well as in front of him and behind him. His left eyebrow raised as he realized his situation was not the best one. He was alive, so that was great, but...he was also incredibly confused. Shirou had no clue of where he supposed to go.

Stretching his arms up to the sky, he yawned. "Let's just go right. Right's always got to be right, and that's why the word's called 'right'."

Letting out another sigh, Shirou turned away from the lake and started to make his way across the green stretch towards...wherever he was going.

By the time he had finally managed to find a dirt path, his patience had already started running out. It had taken him the better part of two full hours – he thought – to run into that stupid dirt path, and even then, it didn't exactly tell him which direction to go. He stomped on the dirt, letting out his irritation.

"Stupid Myrus! At least give me a map!"

He yelled out to release his frustration before falling down on his butt and glaring down at the rocks on the road. Patting his thighs with his hands, he thought of what to do next. "I'm hungry..."

Shirou took off his backpack and set it down in front of him, opening the top lid. Digging into it, he took out a smaller leather bag, held closed by some kind of yarn, or thick string. Untying it, Shirou looked inside to find some rolls, dried meat, and a metal flask. There was also a glass container of thick-looking milk, and he picked that up first. It hadn't been refrigerated for a while, and it would probably have been better for him to drink that first. Tearing off the thin leather sealing the liquid in, Shirou tipped it back and took a big gulp of the fluid, before promptly coughing and spitting it back up.

"Oh, what? Geez, is this churned butter?" he exclaimed as he tried wiping off his tongue. "Gross, ugh, geez!"

Taking a look at the bottle with disgust, he resealed it with the leather, and stuffed it back into the smaller leather bag. Trying to get the taste out of his mouth, Shirou quickly grabbed the flask, uncorked it and took a whiff.

"Gah, alcohol. Smells like whisky. Well, whatever, as long as that butter taste goes away."

He took a small sip and grabbed his throat as he coughed. "What the...? What kind of whisky is this? This stuff is super strong! Well, I guess it's better than the butter," he murmured, taking another quick swill of it.

Shirou grabbed a roll from out of the bag, and looked suspiciously at it. "This is a normal roll, right?"

Setting the flask down, he pulled out a piece of meat. "What kind of animal was this? A rabbit, maybe?"

First taking a bite from the bread, he was disappointed to find it somewhat tasteless and hard. He then took a bite of the meat and found it ridiculously salty. He felt his head fall – what a letdown. Shirou hadn't known what he had expected the food to taste like, but certainly not like it did. Unwilling to waste the food though, and still very hungry, he broke the bread apart, slapped the meat on one half and slid the other half of bread back over it. Taking a bite of the sandwich, Shirou stubbornly forced himself to chew slowly, to make sure everything went down smoothly. The tastelessness of the bread helped to soften the blow of the saltiness of the meat, and he somehow managed to eat without incident.

Taking another gulp from the flask, Shirou threw it back into the bag, tied up the bag, placed it into the bigger bag, and then flopped backwards onto the path. He folded his hands behind his head, looking up at the darkening sky.

"It's getting dark. I need to find a place to rest, but I feel like I'm just walking around aimlessly."

Which, he was, but that would be too much for him to really admit. Shirou sighed again, watching the clouds float by above him. With his archer eyes, he saw flocks of birds flying higher than most would normally do so in the future, but then again, this time period didn't have planes yet.

He closed his eyes for a few moments before opening them again and blinking a few times. "Oh man, I'm tired. I've got to find a town."

He was about to sit up again when something flying in the sky caught his interest. Shirou stared at it for a few minutes, watching it swoop back and forth and come nearer and nearer to his position. It was incredibly large, Shirou observed. Large, and very nimble, even with its huge body. Its wing span was unheard of, practically a two to three hundred meters across. Shirou had never seen a creature like it. Its tail guided its tailwind, helping it to increase its speed two to threefold. The fire coming out of its mouth was also pretty –

Wait. Fire?

Wait, no, seriously. _Fire_?

Shirou rolled backwards and shot up to his feet.

"Are you kidding me? Is that a _dragon_?"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter three is here for you to read. And just so everyone understands, I really love Ceri. I really love her. Not as much as Saber, but I still love her. What can I say?  
>As usual, if you spot any mistakes, please let me know. I'll fix them as soon as I can. Reviews are always welcome!<p>

* * *

><p>Shirou felt his heart start to pound.<p>

This had to be a joke. Dragons actually existed, and his luck was actually bad enough to go up against one?

_You've got to be kidding me!_

The large beast in the sky raced down towards what it thought to be easy prey and Shirou did the first thing that came to his mind: pick up his bag and run for his freaking life.

"Ah! Why is there a dragon here?" he yelled out, running as if his life depended on it, which it did. "You've got to be kidding me! How do I beat a damned dragon?"

Had someone been passing by, they would have been treated to the amusing scene of a foreign, young man racing down the road with smoke billowing behind him, screaming bloody murder as a large beast drooped down to blow fire at him. They may have also been interested to see the dragon's head slam into the man's back and send him flying one hundred meters forward. Then, they would've have been able to spare a smile as the young man stood back up and continued running away.

Shirou kept running until he saw shapes resembling buildings at least a few kilometers away. Sliding to a stop, he gritted his teeth. If that was a village, then he couldn't allow the dragon to progress any further. Turning his gaze back towards the oncoming dragon, he fell flat onto the ground as the dragon roared over him. Standing back up, he was getting ready to run in the opposite direction, away from the village, when he noticed the dragon had switched targets. The time-traveler stared at the dragon, horrified, as it gained speed and raced towards the town instead.

"No!" Shirou shouted, eyes narrowing.

Myrus' words came back to him: _"A final word of caution, boy. Do not so readily release your Reality Marble, or project anything, at all. I doubt it need be said, but take great pains not to project something which has not been invented by that point in time. If others see technology beyond their scope of understanding, you may encounter more problems than you are ready to undertake."_

Shirou hesitating, expression full of confliction as he lowered his projected bow and swords. A bead of sweat slid down his cheek as he weighed the effect his actions would have if anyone happened to see what he had been prepared to do. He cocked his bow, drawing back the single sword in the drawstring, before again lowering it as he once again considered what to do. His fingers twitched slightly and he released his projections, fists falling to clench at his sides.

Closing his eyes, he gritted his teeth in frustration, not sure of how to proceed. If he didn't use his abilities, the village was doomed to fall, but if he did, someone might discover who he was.

_What would _she _do?_

He saw the smoke rise from the village as the dragon reared down on its people, and the bow and arrows immediately materialized back into his hands.

_Like I even have to ask!_

He bent down low to ground himself as drew back his bow's drawstring.

Step one: measure approximate distance from self to target.

Step two: predict expected angle of drift of target, speed of wind crossing and resistance, and all possible angles and courses of fired shots.

Step three: narrow down possible courses to those with a higher than ninety percent rate of execution.

Step four: imbue all ammunition with readily prepared magical energy.

Step five: replicate each "bullet" by two, five, ten.

Step six: bind each set of bullets together as separate units.

Step seven: calculate range and rate of speed, and allocate magical energy accordingly.

"Step eight," Shirou whispered, releasing his fingers from the drawstring "fire."

Each bullet flew away from him, speeding through air like bomber missiles, spiraling, sinking, rising, and zigzagging between one another as they raced for their target. As if they were built with an infrared homing device, each bullet head aligned itself with the target as the dragon looped around the village. The target noticed its enemy and took to higher in the air, drafts blowing back at the bullets as it flapped its enormous wings. The bullets, undaunted by the sudden wind current, stayed true to their path, instead growing ever closer to the beast.

Shirou threw his hand into the air, clenching it slowly as he said, "Trace on: augment!"

Each of the five bullets simultaneously split into ten different swords, pausing temporarily in the air before rocketing straight at the beast's head, ignoring the main body. Shirou knew he couldn't take a dragon – not with his skills, or at least, not the way Saber might be able to. He had to devise other methods of eliminating it. He tightened his clenched fists, shouting,

"Trace on: bombardment!"

Each arrow shot forward, and as soon as they touched the scales of the dragon, exploded in a series of blasts, almost like C4 as it is detonated. Shirou focused his eyes to see if his attack had made any kind of dent in the beast at all, but was hardly surprised when the dragon, now raging with fury, turned around and came surging towards him.

Shirou dug his feet into the dirt for further stabilization, and closed his eyes to dig for the remnants of his magical energy supply. He bent his body down, trembling slightly as a light green hue formed around his body. The dragon opened its mighty jaws, a ball of fiery flames whirling around tightly before it launched its attack, and Shirou threw up both of his hands and shouted,

"RHO AIAS!"

The second the flames hit Shirou's shield, three petals dissipated almost immediately. Shirou gritted his teeth as he felt something in his body tear and start breaking down. He closed his right eye unconsciously, feeling the strain of the fire against his shield. Shirou had known from the start that he didn't have enough energy to maintain the shield, especially with his back-up plan already in place as well.

Taking a chance with his life – as if fighting against a dragon wasn't risky enough – and released his shield and dashed to the side simultaneously.

"If I can't take you on," he grunted out, six swords, each strengthened to be like steel, appearing in the air over him, "then I'll just have to take away something that might cumber you forever! Take _this_!"

The dragon's bright red eyes widened for but a second before Shirou's weapons slammed into their depths, three for each eye. Shirou jumped when the dragon screeched its pain, completely startled by the loud noise. He clapped his hands over his ears, eyes closed as he winced. "Gah!"

He felt his body being nudged away gently by the dragon's snout, and as soon as he opened his eyes, Shirou let out a sound of surprise and fear when the dragon spun around like a spinning top and slammed its tail into Shirou's body. He had barely been able to strengthen his bones a split nanosecond before the tail made contact with him and sent him soaring through the air towards the village. Pain riveted through his body from the attack, and he felt like five Beserkers had all bum rushed at the same time. He hardly felt his impact against something flimsy and as he slid across the ground before eventually sliding to a stop.

Shirou felt his vision fading when he tried to force his eyes open. Everything was blurry, and he was too exhausted to keep them open for much longer than a few seconds. His ears kept ringing, and he briefly entertained the idea that the dragon might come back after him, kill him, and destroy the village as well.

"Ugh," he groaned softly, clenching his fists and tightening his muscles as he, inch by inch, forced his body to rise back up. His body shuddered all the while, and he felt him lose a few inches of air before he caught himself again. Again forcing his eyes to open, Shirou slowly turned to look around him, the muscles in his jaw jumping as he ground his teeth. His body hurt, and he felt like if he got up, that would be the end of his story.

_What about everyone else's stories? Whose fault was it that the dragon found the village in the first place?_

_That was an accident_, Shirou argued with himself, still struggling to rise up. _I didn't mean to lead that thing so far and put so many people in danger._

_If you didn't mean it, then prove it! If you're a hero, then it's your responsibility to save the innocent!_

_I can barely stand on all fours right now... How am I supposed to save everyone?_

_So you don't care if everyone dies around you again? You don't mind repeating the same travesty that happened seventeen years ago? You're okay with being the one lone survivor, incapable of doing anything but saving his own hide?_

"No," he gasped, his eyes opening fully as he forced his body to rise. He reached deep within him for any magic leftover, anything that would help him, just..._something_!

"Ahhh!" he yelled out, his body fervently rebelling against his wishes.

Then, as if a switch had been flicked off, he felt himself lose control over his body and fall face forward back onto the ground. _Again, I just..._

* * *

><p>He was shaking. Honestly, why must he have been the one to fulfill this assignment? He wasn't even remotely related to the discussion at hand, but thanks to being the only free to leave the town without consequence, he had been sent as a result. Lifting up his eyes timidly, he gulped and quickly looked back at the red carpet as soon as he had peered into the other's eyes.<p>

The king's eyes appeared soulless to him – soulless, cold, and calculating. _He's not human!_

"When can we expect the next shipment, louse?" asked a pudgy man, his belly barely covered by his brown robes. "As I recall, we have already sent the appropriate funds."

"Y-yes, esteemed sir, that is true, but..."

The man winced when the king narrowed his eyes. He bowed his head lower until he touched the carpet. "That is true, but the caravan carrying the goods underestimated the band of thieves in the area and was overtaken..."

Arthur Pendragon, born under the name of Arturia, the king of Britain, tapped her index finger against the arm of her throne, the only telling of her irritation. This was not the first, but the second time their supply of iron had been "stolen" or "lost". She didn't doubt for a moment that there was something more to this predicament – if the town had already experienced such an issue, then they should have been more than prepared.

"How can that be?" her king-of-arms asked, standing down the steps to her right. "I personally sent a troop of men to take care of the issue. I have received no word or otherwise of any complications."

"Cedrych," she called out calmly, earning the attention of the entire court. "How long has it been since you've received communication from your men?"

"Hardly a fortnight, sire," Cedrych responded courteously, his torso bowed out of respect.

She felt herself start to grind her teeth. Two weeks without a single letter of communication? Twice already she had requested the town of Puria to send Camelot a much needed source of iron, but this was the second time her demands hand been turned down via other means. The first time was passable, as the town was technically on the outskirts of her rule in Logres. Being only nearly two years into her reign, her influence was not yet widespread enough for towns to willingly supply the people of her town with materials.

However, after the battle against the other eleven kings, and two additional battles against the Saxons along the Dubglas river, she had realized Camelot's stock of materials was sorely lacking. While Camelot was pulling in resources from nearby mines, farms, and woodwork factories, it simply wasn't enough to meet the demand of supplying her soldiers with the armor they dearly required. Several men had joined to fight under her banner – far more than originally predicted – after the battle, and the towns Camelot held a treaty with were hard-pressed to keep up with the demands asked of them.

"Gawain."

The blond standing to the immediate right of her turned obliquely, bowing deeply. "My Lord?"

"Take fifty of your most trusted men and march to Puria. Evaluate the situation and take action based on your own judgment."

"It will be done. Providing that this man speaks lies, what would you have me do?"

"As I said previously, I will leave that to your judgment. However, if something smells of treachery..."

She paused, focusing her gaze on the man quaking down in front of her. "...Then purge the town of its curse of lies and deceit and deliver it unto justice."

Arturia's eyes narrowed imperceptibly as she noticed the man smirk for but a moment – the expression was gone so quickly she was not sure if she had really witnessed what she thought she had. Her fingers on her right hand coiled in slightly as she felt something stir from deep in her stomach. Something – she wasn't sure what, but something was off about the entire situation. Breathing out softly, Arturia realized this was one of those times where it was best to follow her instincts rather than consider reason to be a solution.

"Gawain, have Lancelot accompany you."

She knew she had made the right decision the second the man's face paled slightly. Gawain turned back to give her a fleeting glance of confusion before he bowed again. "By your will, Your Majesty. I will inform Lancelot of your command. And what of this man, sire?"

"He will, of course, lead you to the town. I ask that you keep your eyes on him at all times."

"I understand," Sir Gawain responded before rising to his full height and looking down at the man currently bent down on the floor. "Rise, you. We will set off immediately."

The man shook his head back and forth as Gawain grasped his arm and starting pulling him towards the entrance of the throne room. Gawain showed no hesitance when he squeezed the man's arm hard enough to bruise, forcing the other to follow after him.

"Do you mean to kill every villager in my town, King?" the man yelled out, trying to resist as the knight continued pulling him away. "What is the meaning of sending two knights simply to recover something? Your foolishness will bring about your end, mark my words! I swear that –"

"Would you shut up already?" Gawain muttered, letting go of the man's arm to backhand him across the face. The man was so surprised that Gawain had little trouble of pulling him the rest of the way out of room.

Arturia bowed her head slightly, letting out a sigh as soon as the man's screams could no longer be heard. That villager had not been the first one to curse her that week, least of all, that day. Perhaps she had risen on the wrong side of the bed every morning for the past month, as nothing seemed to be going well. Her head cook, Baeddan, had been repetitively complaining to her, directly, for that matter, of his "concern" over their lack of ingredients, seasonings, cookware, and more so than anything else, the lack of helpers to help with cooking all the necessary meals for the soldiers and her knights. She realized the importance of meals for the keep, but really, did he need to complain to her every moment she was unfortunate enough to be seen by him?

Then there was Merlin, yet another thorn in her side. Just a couple of weeks before, he had, again, used her for some experiment with her none the wiser. Arturia could feel her muscles tensing as she recalled how often she had gone to the pot, and found herself cursing the gleeful expression on the wizard's face.

_"It's a success!" _he had told her when had come out of the toilet room for the fifth time that day. _"Egads, I've done it! Even after boiling it to rid it of all impurities beforehand, for it to be able to induce such a condition by simply using water from the river, I now realize that our sewage system does indeed feed out into the local water systems! This will allow me to work with those in charge of sewage to develop a system that will not filter out into our pure water. Thank you, Arturia, for your help with this experiment."_

Arturia had just stared at him, her face first paling as she realized what he'd forced her to drink. Then she had felt herself flush with anger before quickly turning an odd shade of green, and finally blue as she clutched at her stomach.

After hearing about her condition, her foster brother, Sir Kay, had spared her no expense at laughing at her misery. Not even Sir Bedivere had been unable to disguise a snort of amusement, and the meeting she had carried to discuss the future plans with the Knights of the Round Table turned into nothing short of a laughing fest. Her body had quivered noticeably, unable to hide her embarrassment and anger. She hadn't spoken to Merlin again for a full week afterward.

"Sire," came Bedivere's from her left, snapping her out of her reminiscing. The screaming man had long since been "escorted" out of the room, and she had apparently been caught up in her own thoughts to notice the expressions of uncomfortableness on her court's faces.

"Yes, Bedivere?" she asked, acknowledging him without her expression shifting remotely.

"My Liege, I must say that I, too, am curious of your motives for sending Lancelot to take care of as small a matter as securing funds or materials. And fifty men, Your Majesty? Need we send so many?"

It was a decent question, and one she had given much thought to.

"Cedrych indicated sending a total of ten men to Puria with the intent to escort and secure our demanded amount of iron, a trip that should hardly take a week were one to head straight there and back. Yet we have not received confirmation or otherwise within two? Do you not find that suspicious, Bedivere?"

It was Cedrych who spoke up instead. "You suspect foul play, then, Your Highness?"

Bedivere cupped his chin, stroking it as he considered what the king had said. "I see, yes. Of course – Conan the Great has been known to traverse through that area. If bandits are indeed stealing the supplies we need, it would only make sense to first suspect Conan and his band, as they have been quite vocal in their opposition of Camelot's king."

"Precisely my thoughts on the matter, Bedivere," the king said, facing forward and not even glancing at him. "In which case, it would not be pure folly to assume the soldiers we previously sent may have very well met their end at Conan's hands. I am also wary of believing that messenger – his intentions did not seem pure."

"Perhaps I should attend to the issue myself, as well?"

Arturia shook her head slightly. "No, I would prefer that you remain here by my side, Bedivere. Aside of you, all of my knights are out on various expeditions of great importance to the kingdom. Were something to happen in their absence, I want to be certain that someone I have absolute faith in will be my side."

"Very well," Bedivere replied, the bangs of his light blond hair – so light it looked white – falling to cover his eyes. "If we are to secure a trade route with Puria, we will not need to worry about iron or steel for a short time, at least. But what of our copper and coal supplies?"

Arturia raised her right hand, indicating a thin, wiry man to come forward. "Dylan, you have kept score of our trade routes, have you not?"

Bowing, her steward curtly nodded once, his dark-brown eyes downcast as he answered his king's summoning.

"We have successfully communicated with the villages of Dawson, Tirad, Monnae, and Poiran. Each village has acknowledged His Majesty's kingship and is sending a steady supply of copper, while seven other villages, Yustaeia, Losteanc, Worick, Briata, Kronsinae, Ewikwe, and Bron have promised us our necessary supply of coal."

"What about our food trade routes?" Bedivere asked, turning to the king.

"Dylan," Arturia merely said, closing her eyes as she bowed her head slightly.

"Camelot has more than quadrupled the number of plots for farming, and there are currently several teams of hunters exploring beyond the castle's walls, hunting game for consumption use."

"You are quite knowledgeable," Bedivere complimented the steward with a smile. "I see why you are the king's steward. You are most deserving of the title."

Dylan bowed again and Arturia waved him away.

"Now then, if you have no more questions," she began, pausing when Bedivere shook his head slightly and turned away, "I would like to see to a few more villagers before retiring from hearings for the rest of the day. Dylan, see the next person in."

After making a quick bow, the wiry man scurried to the entrance, calling for the next visitor. Bedivere bent down slightly to whisper in Arturia's left ear, "After the man from earlier, I wager things will only be better henceforth."

She did not reply, instead watching as a burly man with a pot belly entered, dressed in the rags normally indicative of a peasant of low class. He fumbled with his shirt momentarily before flopping down onto the floor like a jelly roll. Arturia felt her eyebrows raise slightly, unsure of what to make of this commoner, before stealing a quick glance at Bedivere, as if to question his words. He smiled back at her reassuringly, and she turned back to look at the...thing, on her red carpet.

"I would hear your name, now."

"Onion," came the muffled reply, to which Arturia frowned slightly, slightly bewildered.

"I beg your pardon?"

Dylan hissed at "Onion" to lift his head and speak more clearly, and the pudgy man did just that.

"Einion, Your Greatness!" the man exclaimed, flopping back down onto the carpet.

"...Yes, of course," Arturia murmured, taken aback by the man's strange mannerisms. "Then, Einion, was it? Einion, what is that concerns you as of late?"

"It is about my horse, Oh Great One," Einion said, holding out his hands towards her pleadingly. "My wonderful horse and that snake in the grass, Catrin! That fox has given me nothing but headaches since I so kindly took her in, and yet she somehow felt fit to do such a horrid thing! My poor horse, how he must have suffered! He was such a fine steed, and yet she took him away from me!"

"Ah," Arturia said, unsure of what else to say. "So, you are reporting a stolen horse. That is a grave offense indeed."

"No, Your Majesty! My horse has died!"

"...She murdered your property?"

"No, sire! He died of heartbreak! You see, that vixen took it upon herself to have her way with my horse and when she died from her sinister act, my great steed, too, died, but from heartbreak! Whatever am I to do, Oh Majestic One?"

"By 'had her way', you mean...?"

Bedivere cleared his throat. "I believe he refers to what you think he speaks of, Your Highness."

The daughter of Uther Pendragon stared down at the flabby man, unsure of whether or not she had a firm grasp of the situation. As the pudgy man continued whining, moaning, and groaning, Arturia clenched her right fist tightly, her left hand cupping her face as she leaned forward. Why, why, why, _why_ couldn't she just have a normal day sometimes? Bedivere leaned down and whispered,

"I seem to have lost that wager."

_Only twenty-some more people to go..._

* * *

><p>Three hours later after listening to villagers from near and far as the talked about their various issues, Arturia could be seen calmly walking up the spiraling staircase to her study, two squires following along behind her. The two followed along silently, two to three paces behind her at every step to ensure she was neither crowded nor too far away. Her blue cape of fur hanging off of her left shoulder billowed around her gently as she climbed, gaze steadfast and cool. After reaching the fourth flight, Arturia turned away from the staircase and walked down the long corridor, the torches along the walls lighting up the way. Dusk had already fallen, but she still had much work to attend to.<p>

Her armor clanked with every step she took, the sounds ricocheting through the stoned passageway. She could also hear the soft padding and scraping of his squire's leather boots as they walked along behind her. Arturia had not intended to take on any squires, much less two of them, but her knights thought it best that there be someone at least somewhat knowledgeable on the roughness of her schedule to attend to her. Of course, she had servants to do that as well, but her squires were the one who polished her armor, sword and sheath, and took care of her various errands when they were not training.

Arturia came to an abrupt stop as soon as a tall, old, elderly stepped out of the shadows in front of her. She frowned as the old man gave her a pearly grin, and turned her head away. Lifting her left hand up, the two squires quickly bowed, took a step back, pivoted, and started walking away to what she assumed would probably be the Great Hall for dinner. She was rather hungry herself, but that would have to wait.

As soon as she felt the two boys were outside of earshot, she folded her arms across her chest, cocking a hip as she met the old man's gaze with her own blank one.

"Merlin. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Her words were dry and sarcastic, though Merlin didn't appear to be affronted in the least. He gestured for her to walk with him, to which she did, albeit a bit grudgingly.

"You seem healthy, lad," Merlin chirped cheerfully, much to her annoyance. "I take it you are no longer living in the toilet room?"

"Rather than any sword on the battlefield, you will be the end of me, Merlin," she rebuked angrily, eyes narrowing dangerously. "You and your foolish experiments."

"Now, now, child, no need to speak in hyperboles," he said, pausing when she glared at him. "Do not be so hostile. My intentions were pure."

"As pure as my steed's manure, I'm sure," she muttered, turning her head away from him. "You really will one day cause me my death."

"Come now, dear. That is why you were given Avalon: to keep you alive for me to conduct my various experiments."

Arturia simply glared at him further, saying nothing in return.

As soon as they arrived in front of her study, Merlin ushered her in like a mother hen would a chick. He then dismissed the two guards standing right outside the doors so he could speak to her in private. Closing the door with a gentle whoosh, and locking it, Merlin turned to look at the young king frowning at him.

"You have been quite irritated lately, Arthur," he remarked after a moment of silence.

"Arthur" sighed, her shoulders drooping slightly. "Something has not felt right lately, though I suppose it may just be nerves playing tricks on me."

"I wouldn't say that," Merlin replied, serious for once. "There has been talk of a dragon appearing to the east, near the border of the Saxons. While I am not certain of its type, it was apparently seen chasing a traveler before moving onto a village."

"A village?" Arturia asked, her fists clenching immediately as she stepped forward. "I have heard nothing of this! What village was it?"

"A village called Tryst. No one was killed, thank goodness, but they did take some damage to their buildings. However, you may not have heard anything because they are far out of our scope, and dangerously close to the Saxons. We haven't been able to reach out to them yet to include them under our protection of safety."

"What of the dragon?"

"Felled, by the traveler, apparently. Of course, I do not know the details so I couldn't say for certain."

"Tryst," Arturia murmured, a finger on her lips as she turned away in thought. "I suppose it is good that the village is safe, though I do worry about what might happen should they be attacked by the Saxons, or worse, another dragon."

She sighed, covering her face with her hand. "Today has certainly been eventful."

The old man nodded wisely, and walked forward, holding a vial of something. She looked at it suspiciously before glancing back up at him. "And pray tell, what is that?"

"I know you haven't been sleeping well lately. Trust me, I'm fairly certain you may come to need it rather soon."

Arturia took the glass vial warily, looking at the pasty white mixture inside. "And you say this will energize me? It will not kill me?"

"Lad, I have invested far too much of my time in your life to kill you so easily," Merlin said with a small smile. "Just drink it. I guarantee it won't do anything to you."

She had her misgivings, – and who could blame her after what had happened two weeks previously – but gingerly popped the cork and tilted her head back to drink it down. Her eyes opened as wide as physically possible as she felt a burning sensation go down her throat. Tears flooded her eyes as she coughed a few times, feeling as if her throat had been burnt all the way through.

Merlin grinned so happily at her that she wanted to punch him.

"How's that? Do you feel rejuvenated yet? I call it my Pepper Strike, a drink guaranteed to pep you up!"

"Merlin..." she gasped out warningly, her hand at her throat.

They both quieted down as they heard the sound of someone running down the corridor. Frowning, Arturia moved around Merlin to the door, swiftly unlocking it, and opening it right as a young man came running up to her. Her two squires ran up directly after the man, each one breathing heavily. Pedr spoke first, his chest heaving as he bowed to her and rushed to explain:

"Y-Your Majesty," he gasped. "Th-this courier hails from the town of Tryst! He reports of a travesty that will befall the people!"

"Tryst?"

Arturia gritted her teeth slightly. Was that not the very same town Merlin said was attacked by a dragon not too long ago? If it was close the Saxon border, then it would not take long for the army to burn through the village and march towards Camelot. More so than for the village though, she was concerned about the places with which Camelot had a trade route in place. If the Saxons tried edging forward too much, it would put those towns at risk, which would severely hamper Camelot's ability to function further.

"Not just Tryst, Your Majesty," the courier continued, holding an arm across his body to cover the wound she had been too preoccupied to notice.

"That wound!" she exclaimed. "We must have you treated immediately!"

"No, Your Majesty, I fear my time is near. Tryst, Your Highness, isn't the only one in danger. Perc and Hwol are within barely a few hours' journey from there. They will all be enveloped if the Saxons are not beaten back to where they belong."

"...How much time is there before the Saxons are due to arrive?"

"Within the week, perhaps sooner..."

The courier was starting to sink down, his wound taking a toll on him. Arturia raised to her full height, coming to the realization that if she did not act promptly, those towns would soon be no longer, and the Saxons would be that much closer to vilifying her lands further.

"You have done your duty well. You may rest."

The courier stared up at her as his eyes began to glaze over. "You...honor me, Your...Majesty..."

"Take him away, Pedr," Arturia directed. With that, she turned swiftly, her cape flowing around her.

She walked up to where her sword, Excalibur lay in its sheath, picking it up and promptly secured it to her belt. For a short moment, she bowed her head, almost as if in prayer. Then, she turned back around, she barely gave Merlin a second glance as she glided past him and out the door. Unbuckling her cape, she tossed it into Ynyr's hands. Her second squire peered up at her, an expression on his befitting that of a future knight. Inwardly, she could say she was proud of his progress, but now was not the time for such thoughts.

"Inform Bedivere to meet me at the gate with three hundred men at the ready. It will take at least three days to reach that area."

"You are leaving?" came Merlin's voice, stopping her in her tracks. "I sense something that will change you forever at your destination. Are you sure about this?"

Arturia didn't even bother to look back, and began to walk down the hallway.

"Be off, quickly!" she commanded Ynyr, unconsciously projecting her authority and ability as a king. "We depart immediately!"

* * *

><p>Shirou shoveled another scoop of coal into the hearth fueling the forge. Sweat running down his face, he dropped the shovel and moved to maneuver the large bellows attached. Looking down that the forge, he simultaneously pulled down the lever that would manipulate the bellows to heat up the heath. Shirou backed away from the forge as soon as a large, burly man came walking into the enclosed area.<p>

"Alan," Shirou greeted the man. "Forge is all heated up for you."

"Well, there, lad. You've gone done a good job this time, here," Alan said gruffly, grabbing a small steel ingot. "I'll make a blacksmith out of you yet, boy."

"Hah, I'm just here to help," Shirou replied with a smile. "I don't know a thing about blacksmithing."

"Yeah, you magic types don't really know how to work things like true men. Well, be off with you, then. Ceri's been awaiting your arrival."

Shirou waved as he ran away from the forge, grabbing his tunic top along the way. Every day was filled to the brim with incredibly hard work, so he normally didn't bother wearing a shirt around. It often became very sweaty and really uncomfortable. However, he couldn't really stand showing his bare chest to the women of the village, so he would always pull it back on right before meeting any of them.

Dashing down the main road, his boots scraping against the dirt, he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back so the sweat wouldn't drip into his eyes. Shirou grinned when a young, blonde woman in her late twenties turned to smile at him, gesturing daintily to the cart next to her. He spared her a quick grin and put himself in between the handles to push it forward.

Ceri looked up at him gently as he pushed the cart forward. "You appeared rushed this morning, Ro. Has Alan been working you hard today?"

"Nah, just the usual," Shirou replied. "Smelt some ingots, heat up the forge, shine the weapons in supply, sweep up the area... You know, same old, same old."

"You'll die an early death, you know."

"Nah, it's the least I can do. Besides, I like helping."

It had been approximately two, almost three months since the dragon incident had occurred. The village had been in such a bad state, it had been difficult for the fifty-some villagers to get by. Luckily, the dragon's fire had not reached as far as their farming lands, but a lot of the trade shops had needed to be rebuilt and restocked. Surprisingly, Tryst was a rather well-known place in the area, as they supplied all the weaponry to surrounding villages and their militia. Tryst also made armor, but it wasn't really comparable to Hwol, a village with half its population proficient in armoring and tailoring. Hwol was hardly a couple hours' walk away, so it was relatively easy to trade product among the towns.

As far as he knew, Tryst traded its weapons for Hwol's clothing and armor, resulting in a more or less equal trade. By extension, Hwol would also lend out a number of its militia to protect the town when danger came. They lived on the outskirts fairly close to the Saxon border, so there was a chance of attack at any time. Shirou wondered why they would stay there knowing they could be killed at any moment, but several people had told him that they were under protection of the great King Arthur. If anything happened to them, King Arthur was sure to come to their defense, although they had yet to actually swear their allegiance to the young king.

He and Ceri were actually on their way to Hwol at that moment. One every month or so, the villagers would consolidate a list of necessary items, and hand her a bag of different elaborate trinkets to cover the costs. Shirou had actually arrived halfway through the cycle, and was too out of commission to walk with her when she went the first time. He had, however, gone the time after that, making this his second trip to Hwol total. It was a fairly easy trip, and even as slow as the two of them walked, it still only took them the better part of a couple of hours. The two were carrying an assortment of weapons in their cart to trade for the clothing. The trinkets were simply in case the trade didn't quite match up enough for the volume of clothes they were buying.

"You know, one day Alec is going to fall on his face with how high he always puts his nose when walking near me."

"Oh, don't mind him," Ceri reassured him. "Alec has always been suspicious of anything that was 'different', so to speak. He would be suspicious of a two-headed chicken if ever he saw one."

"I probably would be, too, actually."

The two shared a laugh, content as they walked along side by side.

Shirou really liked Ceri and being around her. She was actually the one who had nursed back to health while the rest of the village had told her to cast him out. The major reason they hadn't was not because of any expert persuasion by Ceri, but because Shirou had ultimately saved the town from an early demise. Shirou had been unconscious for a solid two weeks, having pushed himself to his limits and his body needing a great amount of rest before it could move around like normal again. Upon finally awaking, he was treated to the scene of Ceri vehemently opposing several men storming into her house to get rid of him. She was a small little thing, with a bark to match her bite. Did all women in the sixth century grow up to have fiery dispositions? Both Ceri and Saber scared him as much as they made him admire them.

Actually, it only made sense that the two of them grew so close so quickly. Shirou, being the foreigner he was, was seen as a threat to everyone's livelihood. He had only been spared his life because of the dragon thing. Ceri, on the other hand, was also an outcast, though for an entirely different reason. According to her, her husband had left the village to volunteer his services in Camelot, but had met his end early during one of the battles against the Saxons. Ceri had received a small settlement to compensate her for her loss, but that would never allow her to forget what her husband had attempted to do. To Ceri, her husband was a hero who fought for what he believed in, and fought to protect not only her, but their town, and their country. Now that he was dead, he would forever be regarded highly in her heart.

The village, on the other hand, felt that by going out and getting himself killed so quickly, he had only brought shame upon them. The husband had been none too popular when alive either, always spouting out his ideals and feeling the need to include himself into everyone else's business. It was unsightly for a man to take such interest in matters of the household, or childrearing, and yet, that is what the man valued most. He had always desired a family of his own with Ceri, but to their dismay, she was proven infertile, and unable to foster any offspring. If the husband could not protect a child of his own, what better than to protect the children of the village? His mother hen tendencies only pushed the other villagers away instead, and in the end, according to the rest of the village, he had escaped to instead prove himself in battle. However, even then, he had only failed as a result.

It was sad, Shirou realized, seeing the telltale signs of Hwol only a few kilometers away. Damned if he did, and damned if he didn't. Ceri's husband seemed to have been doomed from the start. From what Ceri had told Shirou about him, the guy seemed to be rather decent, but born with bad luck. It would've been nice to have had a chance to meet him, though. The town's dislike for Ceri was different though, and he could somewhat see why. If her husband was the most caring man around, she must have been the most beautiful. When her husband had died and left her a widow, Ceri had caught more than a few looks from the other men in the village, married and single. Her eyes were the gentle shade of grass-green, and her lovely blonde hair seemed to glint whenever the sun's rays touched it. She was also ridiculously kind, and always willing to give a helping hand to whomever she thought needed it.

Unfortunately, jealous, older wives had taken notice of their husbands gravitating towards her for something they might have needed mended, or something that they couldn't understand about the "relations between the three villages", or something else equally ridiculous. The men would attend to her at any given moment without her asking for their help whatsoever. The more attention she received from the populous, the angrier housewives became and she was ousted from the circle of women, only receiving their scorn and anger. Very much valuing the friendship of others, and desperately hungry for it so she would no longer be lonely, she instead began turning away help from the men, so they would focus more on their own families and make their wives happy. Expecting everyone to be happy, she was astonished to find out the men were insulted – their help was not good enough for her? After all the time they had helped her out, she was turning them away from her door?

Ceri began to accept it as a truth that she would not be able to satisfy either side, and she retreated to her home, rarely leaving except on her monthly trek to Hwol, and to Perc every so often for meat, and the local market for other groceries. When Shirou had arrived, Ceri had taken care of him not only because she was kind, but to fill in the part of her heart torn away by loneliness. In a way, Shirou helped her to smile again, somewhat. However, she still lived in Tryst, so it wasn't as if she could escape her problems. Shirou was only too glad to help her through her anguish, though, if he could. He knew how it felt to lose someone he loved for eternity – the Saber he had known was gone forever, and even if he did become friendly with the king, she would never be the same as his Saber had been. She wouldn't have gone through everything they had, she wouldn't have already given up on her foolish desire to have the Holy Grail, and she wouldn't have been able to let go of the regret built up within her.

"You know," began Ceri softly, her eyes downcast shyly. "I was born in Hwol, myself."

Shirou looked up, his grimace disappearing as he concentrated on her words. "Huh, not Tryst?"

Ceri shook her head, still smiling gently. "No, I grew up in Hwol, but moved to Tryst after...an incident."

"...Incident?" Shirou asked, not sure if he should have.

"My parents were killed by the Militia Chief when I was all of ten years old, under suspicion of conspiring with enemy spies."

She narrowed her eyes, each green orb hardening as she recalled the past. "Hwol is a town built upon clothing – armoring, tailoring, sewing... Anything that had to do with fabric, material, thread, or any of the sort was something well within Hwol's line of expertise. Naturally, those who could manipulate clothing best were the ones who would receive the most acclaim, and the most envy."

Shirou felt as if she was glaring at the town ahead of them, instead of glaring as a result of being angry. "I take it your parents were good at what they did?"

"They were the absolute best. These are not merely words of pride, but of an absolute fact. Anyone, for all of their jealousy, could say much of the same. The house where I lived was the largest by far, two times bigger than any other, and we could actually afford to sleep on makeshift beds. My parents were that well-off."

"Did they actually talk to any enemy spies?"

"Of course not," the blonde scoffed, as if the idea was nothing short of unbelievable. "All visitors to the town back then were normally regulars – as in, they would come every few months or so on a regular basis. Those who had never been seen before would be trailed by the militia until they had proven themselves trustworthy. My parents were too busy to go out on any trips either – they were always holed up within the shop, making something or another."

"Then how could they have been under suspicion of doing something like that?"

"Someone planted 'evidence' that claimed my father had done something indecent, such as answering to the demands of those foul beasts to the east. He had hardly ever taken a single step out of town, and his contacts were limited to the people who visited the village. How could he have ever done something so elaborate as betray the town?"

"Huh? Why didn't they just analyze the paper for DNA–"

Shirou clapped a hand over his mouth as Ceri glanced at him, seeming somewhat confused. "I'm sorry, what was that, Ro? DN...what?"

"Haha, nothing! Nothing! So, uh," he said quickly, clearing his throat. "So, the police, I mean, militia took away your parents?"

"They burned my father on a stake, as if to make a statement and ward away evil. Evil, in this case, of course being too proficient at something."

O...kay. Why were they talking about this again?

"My mother was then raped by the chief, who was insistent that no one but a whore would marry a criminal."

Oh, wow. Really? That was... Uh, okay. He'd heard worse (he actually hadn't), but...

"So, you were ten when this all happened?" Shirou said, trying to be polite and continue the conversation. He was actually pretty curious on how she could still be so sane even after all that had happened. He probably would've turned into a serial killer or something after that.

"Yes. I had lived a life of relative luxury – of course, nothing compared to what real royalty would have. And yet, the people of Hwol stole that existence from me, for the sake of their own greed. They stole from me my parents, my life, my inheritance, my future, and my soul."

Shirou heard her knuckles pop as she clenched a fist.

"I hated them. Bitterly. I hated them for everything they did, for their greediness, for their ability to hurt the innocent without any concern. I still hate them," she finished, her voice low and brimming with loathing. "I wanted them to suffer in the same way I had. But I was young, without power, without voice and govern. There was nothing I could do, but I couldn't stand to stay there any longer. In rebellion, I fled Hwol. But where was a ten-year-old girl supposed to flee to? I had no choice but to head to a village nearby. I had intended to head to Perc, but somehow found myself in Tryst instead."

"How'd you survive?"

"I sewed," Ceri replied, almost wistfully. "That was all I had known how to do, and Tryst did not have anyone with as much expertise as I had, so a family was quick to take me in. I gained them renown, and they gave me bread and abed. There was nothing more I could ask for at that point."

Shirou tilted his head, smiling a bit. "So, you learned to forgive and forget then?"

"No. I hated. At first I thought I would try to escape the reality I had lived and move on, but then Hwol accused the family I was with of stealing their village's secrets. That was their line of expertise – Tryst, a blacksmithing and farming village should not have been able to reproduce something of excellent quality in that trade. So then, that family, too, was taken from me, after three years of living with them. I returned home one morning after spending the night at a friend's house to find the stabbed bodies of the entire family.

"They would not kill me, but were not against killing those who came into contact with me!"

Ceri had stopped walking, her shoulders trembling as she recalled her past. "Tryst, too, looked to spite me. The family at whose house I had spent the night over claimed I had never been there, and that they had nothing to do with me. I was cursed, they said. Anyone who came into contact with me would be cursed, they said. Was losing my second family not enough? I had to lose my reputation as well?"

Wow, the girl was on a roll. He knew better than to interrupt a woman's tirade, though he had to say that Rin's rants had never been so...dramatic. No, ex that. They had. They just didn't make him feel bad for whoever Rin was ranting about – in a way, she was always wrong somehow, so he could only pity her instead. It was usually her own fault, after all.

"I wanted to slash open their abdomen, pull out their entrails and hang the people by them like the filth they are. Then I wanted to burn the villages to the ground, laugh as the land scorched to nothing, and revel in the glory."

Shirou snapped out of his reminiscing and stared at Ceri, mouth agape. She wanted to what? Hang them by their organs? What the fuck?

"...Why didn't you?" he asked warily.

"I changed my mind," she answered calmly, as if that answered everything.

He wanted to ask what was the cause of her transforming from a terrifying teenager to the calm, reassuring woman next to him, but they had already entered the village by that point. As soon as the two had stepped foot into Hwol, Ceri clammed up, only displaying a smile for the people she ran into. Shirou watched the blonde carefully as she bent down to talk to the children who would run up to her, patting them on their heads and trading with them kind and gentle words. Then she would stand, smile back at him as well, and continue walking forward towards one of the several shops along the main road.

They would go by several shops, dropping off weaponry and picking up clothing and material instead. Even after trading all of their goods and receiving the requested clothing, Ceri had him visit one more shop with her.

Shirou looked down at the cart of clothing, not sure if it was a good idea to leave it unattended. Ceri pulled on his hand insisting that he come with her. Sighing, Shirou walked inside beside her, looking around with a bit of curiosity. He had never actually gone into any of the shops, and it was always interesting seeing how bare they were in comparison to stores in the future. The future would have clothes upon clothes all ready for selling to interested customers, but the shops here in the past simply had the material on display. Interested customers would choose the material of their fancy and the clothing would be specially made for that one particular customer, and none other.

Ceri greeted the shop owner, bowing her head a bit.

"Do you have what I ordered last month?"

"Yes," the woman behind the counter answered courteously. "Just finished it a few days ago. It should be ready for the young sir to wear whenever he would like."

Shirou raised an eyebrow when the lady gestured to him, confused on how he fit into all of this. Ceri turned to him, teeth showing as she truly smiled at him. He had never seen her look so at ease before. It completely went against the opinion he had formed of her from her story, but coincided well with his opinion of her from the past two months. He wasn't exactly sure of how to think of her.

The shop owner bent down to retrieve something from behind the counter and came back up with a package, holding it out to him. Shirou stared at it for a bit before looking back at Ceri.

"Think of it as a gift. Your own clothes won't last for much longer as it is."

Shirou's heart skipped a beat. She...had bought him new clothes? After living with her, he knew she didn't own much. She couldn't afford to buy many pleasantries, and spent most of her time knitting and sewing by hand to make ends meet. When she traded off her works, they were used to pay for the levies for maintaining the militia in Tryst and to buy them food and drink. Her house was old, too, and needed several repairs. Shirou had worked on several already, but even he had a limit. He couldn't make something out of nothing for a long period of time without raising suspicion. To be blunt, there were a lot of things she needed, and he was in no position to get them for her, and yet...she had bought him clothes? He was part of the reason she was having even more trouble buying enough sustenance for the two of them, and the reason she had to work deep into the night to finish her projects.

Shirou didn't know what to think. He reached for the package with trembling hands, unable to express his surprise, joy, or pain. This...was a kind gift. _She_ was kind. Her past didn't matter – all that mattered was what she did now. He had a bad past, too, didn't he? He left all of those people in the fire to die, and again when he went to the basement. They all died so he that he could be saved. Maybe he hadn't wanted to cut them open and burn their livelihood – at least, he didn't think he did – but he was no better. Shirou wasn't any kind of saint. He had no reason to doubt her when he wasn't perfect himself.

Shirou pressed his lips together to keep them from quivering. He hadn't wanted to cry for a long time, but it had been a long time since a complete stranger had helped him just because they could.

Not wanting to let the gift go to waste, he grinned at Ceri, forcing his tears back. "Can I try them on now?"

She looked back at him, seemingly taken aback. Perhaps she hadn't expected him to be so happy over receiving something from her, especially after the story she had told. It pleased her that she could make someone so happy over something as menial as new clothing.

"Nothing would make me happier," she responded with a smile of her own.

Shirou placed the package back onto the counter and quickly tore off his shirt – both sleeves had been lost long ago and the trim had been steadily unraveling day by day. Ceri and the shop owner turned their heads away when he took off his boots – they were still in pretty good shape, as far as leather went – and then shimmied out of his pants. He quickly untied the straps around the package and opened it up, holding up the new tunic to look at it better.

It was a brown tunic, made of a very thick and heavy material. It had red embroidering along the shoulders, and for the trim on the sleeves and bottom of the shirt. It was simple, but beautiful. He slipped it on quickly, finding that it was far softer than the one Myrus had given him. He turned to grab the breeches next, slipping them on quickly to appease the nervous women. As soon as his boots were back on, he twirled around.

"How do I look?"

Both women turned their gazes back to him, and Ceri giggled softly, a hand raised to cover her mouth as she did.

"Absolutely dashing."

Ceri turned towards the other woman, bowed her head again and looped her arm through Shirou's, smiling all the while. "Shall we head home?"

"Of course, my lady."

The two walked out of the shop arm in arm, each in a chipper mood. Shirou got behind the cart again and started to push it forward while Ceri matched his pace and walked next to him. They walked back down the main road, heading back towards Tryst. Shirou kept looking down at his new clothing, before looking up to see where he was going with a grin each time. Ceri cracked a joke about him being afraid to lose his clothing as he wore it and he laughed. It was just such a good gift that he couldn't help but check every now and then.

As they walked along the dirt path that fed towards some of the farm plots, Shirou looked down at the cart for a few moments before raising his head again.

"Hey Ceri?" he started, getting her attention. "About our conversation earlier... You said you changed your mind. What changed it?"

Her features were warm – she seemed pleased that he would see past what she had told him before and still be interested in what more she had to say. She fiddled with her own long tunic for a while as she recalled more of her past.

"You know of Tryst's relationship with Perc, yes? Tryst supplies them with vegetables from our own gardens, and our various chicken hatches, and Perc, in return, gives us milk and meat from their cattle ranches. They also give us manure to use for our farms. Perc is a bit farther inland, but it has enough space for a few hundred cattle. They have both milk and beef cows, and when both types of cows die, their leather is used for armoring and tailoring, which is the connection they have to Hwol. In return, Hwol, of course, grants them militiamen to make do with. The horns are also used as a material for blacksmithing as well."

Shirou nodded as Ceri spoke, having only known a bit about the three villages' relationship.

"I would often go to Perc to trade my wares for milk – I believe I made the trek at least once a week, if I could. Times were difficult, and I sometimes had to pull all-nighters to get anything finished. I was a horrible girl, never wanting anything to do with anyone anymore. My personality had become twisted and horrid, cruel. I treated the shopkeepers as if they were mongrels, or bugs far beneath me. They were a good sort, though, the people of Perc. They would wait for my tirades to finish before completing the deal as usual. In fact, thinking back on it, they treated me far too well for my attitude towards them."

Her expression turned solemn. "I hadn't known that there was a man who would offer them his body for whatever chores they needed doing so long as they continued to see past my horrid exterior and trade with me. He would be up well before dawn and asleep well past dusk, performing whatever duties the people of Perc asked of him simply so I could keep trading, and living. The man – Rhys was his name – was in love with me, I later found out. Had been for years, but I was too invested in my schemes to pay him any notice. He even asked me to marry him when I turned twenty."

"Wow, that's pretty cool. So, that's when you got married?"

"Absolutely not. I hardly knew the man, didn't care for him at all, and thought his proposal was preposterous."

Shirou chuckled, believing she would think something like that. "But you did eventually, right?"

"Eventually. His ridiculous proposals only grew more ridiculous, and at some point, I wasn't even sure why I had turned him down so much in the first place."

Ceri squared her shoulders, looking towards Tryst only a little ways ahead of them at that point.

"I hated Tryst. I hated everyone. But he...somehow, managed to make me see things I originally couldn't. He made me learn to appreciate the things I had, in spite of the things I had lost. He truly loved all of the people, and would have done anything in his power to protect them. I thought him to be a complete and utter fool, but perhaps it was I who was the fool for falling in love with him."

Shirou let out a sigh of relief – her life had changed around because her Rhys had healed the scars in her heart. It was nice to know that at least love was no different no matter what the time period.

"I'm glad you were able to change for the better," Shirou said happily. "You're a great woman. I'd hate for that greatness to be overshadowed by regret and hatred."

"Oh, no, Ro," Ceri corrected Shirou. "I still very much hate them. Absolutely loathe them. But I will protect them and help them to the best of my abilities, because that is something he would have done, without fail. I will honor his memory by protecting the people he loved most."

Shirou sighed again. Well, as long as her heart was in the right place, he guessed that was okay.

About half an hour later, the two were back in Tryst, delivering the orders of clothing. After completing the deliveries, the two of them went to go get some vegetables. Since Shirou had been doing favors all around the village ever since waking up, they got plenty to go for a few nights' dinners. Shirou stole a few heads of cabbage from Ceri and ran off down the street, much to her surprise. She was further surprised when he came back, holding a bleeding package and a couple of eggs with a large grin on his face.

"I'll make us a dinner fit for a king!" he exclaimed happily, gesturing towards the package. "Ceri, if you warm up the hearth, I'll start prepping everything!"

"How exciting!" she said, clapping her hands joyfully after setting down the bag of vegetables. "I would never have thought I would meet a man who could cook, and would happily do so!"

"Heh, I'm no ordinary guy," Shirou said with a smirk. "Watch and be amazed."

The two paid no attention to whoever might have been staring at them and each one laughed readily. Then, together, they headed back to Ceri's house, with her immediately putting some firewood into the hearth and starting a fire. Shirou set the bleeding package on a large stone block, grimacing when the blood began to form a small cesspool.

"Oh yeah, Ceri, can you get the seasonings for me?"

"Of course. Basil, salt, pepper, and...honey, right, Ro?"

"Yep. Thanks."

After being with Ceri for so long, he had finally gotten used to her nickname for him: Ro. Most of the villagers couldn't pronounce his name, but for the most part, no one bothered to acknowledge him directly anyway. Ceri had come up with the nickname, and unfortunately, it had stuck. He supposed it was better than "Dragon Vanquisher," which is what most of the kids had run around calling him.

_Oh yeah_, Shirou thought, looking up from chopping the slab of steak. _I'd forgotten all about that..._

Honestly, Shirou had never intended to stay in Tryst for the near three months he had, but one thing had led to another, and before he knew it, he was helping out every single villager that demanded something of him. In a way, he felt bad because it was his fault the entire village had been in such a disarray – thanks to the dragon, he had flown through an entire row of houses. It was a wonder he was even still alive.

When he'd woken up two weeks after the incident, he'd already been in Ceri's care, though, most of the village cursed the idea of his existence. Shirou hadn't found out what had happened to the dragon until much later.

Apparently, he'd somehow killed the dragon, though it had definitely been a fluke. When he had pierced the dragon's eyes, the magic in his weapons had turned the beast blind. The smoke from the village must have confused its senses, and it tried to flee into the air to regroup and restart its terrorization. When the dragon had come down to take vengeance on Shirou, it had flown in the wrong direction entirely towards the ocean instead. As a result of two of its senses having been destroyed, the dragon ended up flying out towards the North Sea where it ended up sinking and drowning. All in all, it had been an anticlimactic end.

The villagers, in their ignorance, had simply thought that had been his intention from the start. Hah, no, he wasn't capable of planning anything that far in advance. As time went by, the villagers grudgingly realized he was not there to kill them, stake them, or whatever else they thought he would do, and starting warming up, slightly. However, with his red hair, most could not really take him too, too lightly. They apparently thought he was Scottish, but his eyes were too slanted to be a normal European. So then they thought he was a demon Scot, risen from Hell to spurn them all. So, he went from Dragon Vanquisher to Scot Demon.

Shirou sighed. Now, he was just known as Errand Boy, though the old people still called him Scot Demon on occasion.

He knew that he should have moved on from Tryst, even if he had wanted to help out. Who knew what was going on with Arturia, or if she was in danger. Wait, no. She was always in danger, it was just a matter of how much. He wanted to leave, he truly did, but he felt like there was a reason he had to stick around for a while longer.

Shirou turned around, having cut all of the vegetables and the steak. "Ceri, is all the stuff ready to go?"

"Yes," she replied, looking over at him from the cooking spit. "The water is boiling for you in the pot, Ro."

"Great. Let's get started."

* * *

><p>Ceri pulled Shirou by the hand towards a large hill a kilometer or so away from Tryst. She had pulled at him the entire way through, but the temperature had sunken sharply within the past week since they had returned from Hwol. His breath came out in white puffs of air each time and he shivered a bit, wanting to sit and do nothing next to the fire instead of venturing out into the cold.<p>

"Ceri, what's going on?" Shirou complained while he followed her to the top of the hill. "It's cold. I swear that it's like less than ten degrees out here. I'm freezing."

"Just a moment," she chastised him, hands on her hips. "This won't take long. I just want to show you something."

It was already dark, so dark that it was difficult to see much. However, the sight Shirou saw when they made it to the top made him gasp out with pleasure.

The moon glittered down on the faraway ocean, causing each wave and crest to shine brightly through the pitch dark night. He watched, with his archer eyes amplified, as the waves rolled over and over, crashing into the beach sand with a gentle rumble. He couldn't hear it, of course, but he imagined that the sound would definitely be gentle. It was odd, having come from Japan, but he had never actually been to the ocean before – not even when he moved to Britain. He simply hadn't really been interested in going to the beach, and didn't think he really deserved to enjoy life much anyway back then.

Shirou frowned slightly. Beyond this hill, barely some fifty kilometers away, was Saxon land, and just beyond that was their home territory. Tryst, Hwol, and Perc really were incredibly close to the enemy, but he knew they were far too proud to move away. As Ceri had put it, that was the land their fathers and forefathers before them had worked so hard to build up, so they had a duty to ensure everything stayed as it was, come what may.

He ground his teeth slightly. Shirou just couldn't understand the importance of pride and duty that every single person in this time period stressed so much. Something like pride shouldn't force you to put your life in danger knowingly, especially when there were other ways to achieve the same thing. Saber's ridiculous pride and desire to see things through on her own terms had caused him no end of trouble, and if she could have just sucked it up a few times, neither of them would have gotten kicked around so much. Her pride though, had been the only thing she'd had left after losing both her country and her people. Perhaps, it was the same thing for these people – maybe their town was all they had left to live for. If so, could he really say they were so stupid for believing what they did? He had his pride, too, as a man, although that was comparing apples to oranges.

Shirou was snapped out of his train of thought when he felt something wrap around his neck. He looked down at Ceri in front of him, blinking a few times as she smiled back at him. Shirou touched the cloth around his neck, feeling the thickness and warmth from it.

"Ceri..." he started, stopping when she shook her head.

"No, this is a present from me to you. You've truly been a godsend, Ro, no, Shi-ro-u. Shirou. I really was lonely and you have brightened up my life so much lately... I am not good at thanking people with words, so, I worked really hard to make sure you would have this in time for the cold weather."

Shirou looked down at the knitted scarf, closing his eyes as he tilted his head back. There it was again, that feeling that he couldn't express. He was gracious, but...did he truly deserve this kind of present, when he'd only brought danger upon the village? His fists clenched tightly and he gritted his teeth. This was too much.

Ceri jolted forward slightly, her eyes wide before she closed them with a soft sigh. Taking a couple steps forward towards Shirou, she wrapped her arms around him, causing him to stiffen up.

"Shirou," she sighed out, burying her head in his shirt. "Those who come in contact with you are blessed, more than anyone else. I don't know why you hate yourself, but I plead that you not follow my example and look toward the future as a new life, instead of focusing so much on the past. The chains of the past will only drag you down to the depths of Hell with them, and once you get that far, there will be no chance of escape for you."

Shirou opened his eyes, looking at the moon as Ceri continued speaking.

"Shirou, I know this might be too much for me to ask of you, but I want you to stay and be one with these people. I may hate them, but you... You are too good for that. Much too good. Their ignorance blinds them, but you can make them see. I ask that you stay, and protect them as I have been unable to. They deserve that much."

"Ceri, I..."

Shirou looked back down at her, ready to tell her that he couldn't do something like that when he noticed it. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her off of him, staring into her eyes. He felt his heart stop when he saw her beautiful green eyes glazed over, a smile frozen on her face.

"Ceri...? Ceri? Ceri!"

He shook her back and forth a bit, before turning her around to look at the arrow embedded into her back. His teeth clacked a bit as his lips started to tremble. Shirou's eyes widened and his hands started to shake as he gripped her shoulders tighter.

"Ceri! Ceri, Ceri, wake up! Wake up, Ceri!"

He heard the whisper of an arrow flying past him before he saw it. Turning back away from the fallen Ceri in his arms, Shirou looked down at the arrow lodged into the grass and dirt.

Ah, so that was it...

Ceri had been killed by the enemy...

The Saxons had killed Ceri...

She was dead, now...

He laid down her body, looking over the ridge at the now obvious troop of fifty coming his way. Shirou felt his blood start boiling, his anger over losing Ceri to such a stupid situation causing him to lose hold of rational thought.

"You killed her," he muttered, his golden-brown eyes flashing as a switch flipped from within him.

He heard the sound of armor clanking as the enemy started running up the hill to take care of him as well.

"You," he murmured softly, anger beginning to peak as he swirled around with two long swords in his hands, "KILLED HER!"

The two soldiers must have thought him to be helpless and incapable of battle as Shirou's swords easily sliced through the breaches in their armor, effectively killing them. Shirou didn't even bat an eye as the two men fell at his feet – his eyes were on the enemies roaring ahead towards the town.

"NO, I won't let you!" he screamed out, thrusting a hand forward with several swords appearing over his head. "You'll die here, by my hands!"

Several men at the vanguard turned around when they heard blood-curdling screams as soldiers died behind them. They looked up at the hill to see a man with flowing red tresses and golden-brown eyes silhouetted by the shining moon behind him. A few of the fifty men took a step back, some mumbling of magicians as they saw one sword after another suddenly appear in the air above the redhead. Had they been able to see Shirou's expression, they might have run away without even considering striking back.

"Archers, take him down!" cried one man, the apparent leader of the group. "Britain will be ours!"

Then several archers immediately took aim and let out a barrage of arrows. Shirou raised a hand as five swords sped forward, easily slicing through the iron arrows and piercing each archer through the slits in their helmets.

The leader hesitated before pointing his sword up at the red demon, shouting,

"Charge!"

Shirou simply stared down at them, his gaze cold as he clenched the two swords in his hands. He didn't need any special tricks to take any of them. The bugs were swarming towards him like gnats to a flame – he needed only apply some pesticide to rid himself of them.

"Not a single one of you is leaving this place alive," he warned softly, raising the sword in his right hand straight up.

The oncoming soldiers rushed him, and he let loose a toothy grin, eyes burning as he yelled,

"Now die!"

The swords tilted down before plunging through the air, slamming into one soldier after another and sending them flying back down the hill. Shirou created so many swords that three or four swords would hit each surprised soldier, killing them instantly. Bending down close to the ground, Shirou rushed down the hill, his feet pounding against the ground as he leapt up into the air. The leader stared as Shirou flew down and couldn't even raise his sword to block as Shirou slammed the swords through the man's chainmail.

"You bastards... I'll kill every last one of you if I have to..." Shirou growled out, his hands still shaking as he forced his anger back. "I'll make you suffer..."

"You won't have the chance," the leader gasped out, blood spurting out of his mouth as he attempted to talk. "We're just the reconnaissance team... There are more than five hundred men on their way here... You can't stop them all..."

"You bastards!" Shirou shouted, plunging the swords in further as he grew even angrier.

_The chains of the past will only drag you down to the depths of Hell with them, and once you get that far, there will be no chance of escape for you._

Shirou's head popped up as Ceri's words rang through his mind. He looked down at the soldier had just killed, seeing the man's eyes staring back at him, cold and lifeless.

"Ah!" Shirou cried out, falling backwards and pushing himself away from the body until he felt his back hit something else. Shirou looked back behind him at another soldier who had fallen by his hand, the projected weapon already having long vanished.

"Ah..."

He looked around him at the fallen bodies of all of the soldiers. He stood up quickly, his face stark with terror at what he had done – he'd killed another human being! He'd killed, and hadn't cared at all as he'd done so! His mouth gaped open at the destruction before him, his right eye twitching as he realized what all he had done. Grasping at his head with his hands, he took in deep breaths, knowing he couldn't turn back time. He'd killed people...

Shirou had never killed another human being before. Demons, corporeal spirits, sure, but actual humans? This was...what was he supposed to do now? He was supposed to save people, not hurt them. What kind of superhero would he become if he lost his senses and killed without discrimination? No, Shirou was not that type of person. Ceri had died, but...they were the enemy. Of course they would attack the first citizen they saw.

No, he would not make excuses for them. They deserved to die. No, they didn't deserve to die, they were just...

They were the enemy.

They weren't _his_ enemies.

They were _her_ enemies.

That made them his enemies.

Shirou's hands fell from down to his sides as he finally calmed down. Yes, they were _her_ enemy, so he would've had to kill people like them at some point. It's just that it happened sooner than he had thought, and at his own discretion. He covered his face with his right hand, sighed once, and opened his weary eyes.

"More are on their way. I have to warn the village... But before that, one last thing."

Shirou walked slowly back up the hill where he had just enjoyed the sight with the first friend he had made in this time period. He stopped just short of where her body was, looking down at it with little emotion on his face. If he'd been more attentive, he could have saved her, but because he was still lacking, she had to die to make him understand his position better.

Wordlessly projecting a shovel, he walked past Ceri's body and dug the shovel into the hard ground. He shoveled one pile of dirt after another, never saying a word nor thinking a single thought. He wasn't able to do anything for her when she had been alive, and now he would never have the chance to pay her back for everything she had done for him. Building her a grave overlooking the view she had loved so much was the least he could do.

Shirou pulled himself out of the hole, and walked back to Ceri's body.

"I wish I could bury you next to him, Ceri. But I'm afraid this is the best I can do for you."

He picked up her cold body, the body that had been hugging him less than an hour before, and gripped it tightly. Shirou turned back to the hole, jumping down into it and lying down her body in the dirt. He didn't have anything to wrap her in, and didn't have enough time to make a coffin, so he could only return her to the earth and hope she would be happy enough with that. After laying her down, he pulled himself back out of the pit and after making one last glance at her, started shoveling the dirt back into the hole.

Fifteen minutes passed before he was finished entirely, and he patted the ground a few times with the shovel, ensuring it was packed enough. Shirou dematerialized the shovel, and turned his back on the grave. His eyes closed and he began to walk away when he heard,

"Thank you, Ro..."

Shirou's eyes widened and his head spun back to stare behind him. His shoulders dropped when he realized she wasn't there, and that she really was dead. Gritting his teeth, he clenched his hand into a fist and aimed the fist at Ceri's grave.

"I promise you, no, I vow to you, that I will protect the villages with my life. I will not let a single person be harmed!"

He turned back around, expression determined as he walked back down the hill, the moonlight casting its glow over him all the while.

* * *

><p>Thoughts? I'm willing and ready to hear what everyone thinks.<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

OH HAI SABER!  
>So, uh, this is the longest chapter I've really ever written. It was supposed to be longer, but I thought, it's only the fourth chapter. Be nice to them. So.<p>

Uh, this chapter bites. I mean, just, bites. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry, but...uh, please be gentle with your flames. GENTLE FLAMES! - Oxymoron

* * *

><p>Five days. That was all the time Tryst had had left to prepare for the oncoming assault of the Saxons.<p>

When Shirou had made it back to town, he had immediately gone to the head of the militia posted in Tryst, warning him of attack. At first, the man had simply laughed at him, thinking the foreigner had told a very interesting, though wrongly placed, joke. When Shirou had told him to simply check the large hill overlooking the ocean in the distance, the chief had seemed curious, but not enough to venture out there himself.

The chief sent ahead two men to see to the hill, only to find out an hour later as they ran back, their expressions panicky, that Shirou had indeed been telling the truth. The chief had only frowned before quickly sending an urgent letter back to Hwol to the head chief to see what their next move would be. Within hardly a few hours, a notice came back, notifying the chief that they were to immediately prepare for battle. A messenger would be sent from Tryst pleading for reinforcements from Camelot, though since none of the three villages had made a treaty with the king, the chances that their pleas would be met would be quite low.

Starting that day, no villager was allowed to leave the village grounds, and the militia preferred that they stay locked up inside of their houses until the danger had been assuaged. However, the people still had to go out to get vegetables from the farms for eating purposes, so one guard was posted to each person who left their home. From what Shirou could tell, there were around twenty guards posted in Tryst, supposedly another twenty in Perc, and thirty in Hwol. He knew that wouldn't be near enough to contain the oncoming army, and had been preparing for the attack for the entire five days himself.

Shirou had been sleeping in Ceri's house off and on, replenishing his magical energy for the upcoming battle, but there was only so much he could do. Aside from concentrating on his projection technique, and patrolling the village every once in a while, there was nothing he could do. Five days passed in this fashion.

On the fifth day, Shirou woke up to the clanging of the village bell warning of an attack. Shirou jumped out of bed quickly, already dressed and ready for action as he opened the door to the house and dashed out into the street. He was soon met with chaos – women were screaming, children were crying, and men were howling as more than one hundred Saxon soldiers stormed through the streets. He hesitated only a moment as he saw one soldier stab a spear into the belly of a child, laughing as he kicked the dead body away from him.

Kanshou and Bakuya were in his hands before he even realized it, and he sped forward at a group of soldiers trying to break down the door to the blacksmith's shop.

"Alan!" he yelled, dashing into the middle of the group and spinning quickly enough to slash the necks of three men.

"Alan, come out! They're here!"

Shirou flipped back through the air to narrowly dodge a sword swept his way, and quickly sped forward, dematerializing his twin swords and instead projecting a long broadsword. Using his momentum, he spun around as if on a fulcrum and slammed the sword into the nearest soldier. As soon as the soldier had fallen, Shirou immediately ducked instinctively as a spear slashed the air right where his head had been.

"Damn!" he cursed, jumping to the side and running down the street.

He wasn't a fighter – at least, not a close-quarters one. If he was going to fight, it had to be from a distance.

Shirou dropped down the ground and rolled as three more soldiers moved in to attack. Skidding around in a semi-circle, he back-flipped again and spun his arms around in an effort to regain his balance.

"Damn it!" he yelled again, jumping back away from another sword slice, and then quickly dodging a spear thrust.

The enemy was everywhere, and the screams he had heard initially suddenly became starkly quiet, and Shirou realized that the village was quieting down only because people were dying, not because the soldiers were. The militia were, however, doing their job well. For every one or two men Shirou might have been able to take down, the militia cutting down at least three to four men. There had been nearly a hundred men on the Saxon side who had made it into the village, but with the militiamen being as experienced as they were, the numbers were reduced dramatically.

Shirou barely blocked a spear with his broadsword before two of the soldiers in front of him suddenly fell forward, arrows embedded in the backs of their heads. The third soldier ran through the gap as their bodies fell, thrusting his spear again. Timing it right, Shirou slapped the spear down with his sword, ran up the spear and delivered a powerful kick to the soldier's face. The soldier stumbled back a few steps, but just as he regained his balance, Shirou flew forward again, slammed another kick into the man's chest, jumped up and delivered the final blow with the sword.

He sighed as the last man fell, and raised his head to look down the street at the destruction. He supposed they had been lucky – not much damage to the buildings had been done, and only a few people had lost their lives. Stepping over the dead Saxon bodies, Shirou walked forward, coming to a stop right before the slain bodies of the child from earlier and his mother. They were both from the bakery down the street – the woman's husband had died a number of years earlier from disease, and she had continued raising her son alone. They had been good people who sometimes would pass him a loaf of bread, on the house. He closed his eyes for a moment, clapping his hands together to pray for their safe travel to Heaven.

"May you rest in peace," he murmured, turning away as a few militiamen came walking towards him.

They gave the bodies a glance, and each one bowed their head slightly, before looking back up at Shirou.

"So the Demon of Scotland _can_ fight," one remarked.

"How many times do I have to tell that that's not my–"

"We're concerned about Perc and Hwol, and need someone to check things out."

"That's not my problem," Shirou said back. "I need to go check on a few things here and make sure Alan and some others are still okay."

"Alan and his son Alec are dead. They were stupid enough to try fending off soldiers on their own before we could get a handle on the situation," one man replied, his tone frosty. "And it _is_ your problem because _you're_ the person we're sending."

Shirou glared at them. "What, are you going to _make_ me go?"

"We're the ones who saved your hide back then, kid. If you can't pay us back with your life, at least do something worthwhile to us."

The other man chortled. "Besides, our hands are tied here for the moment. We may have taken down a hundred of them or so, but they'll be back, in force. We need to make sure Perc and Hwol aren't suffering any more casualties than we have, plus, if Hwol's okay, we'd like to request some extra men to secure this village.

"Why aren't there more of you anyway?" Shirou questioned, tugging on his torn-up tunic. He had traded out his newer clothes for his old ratty ones because he didn't want to ruin one of the gifts given to him by the one person who mattered most to him in that village.

"Quality's what matters most, boy. That's why we're all still alive and the enemy is dead. Think about it, but do that while you're running to Perc."

One of the bowman barked at Shirou like a dog, causing him to jump back with surprise. Shirou clicked his tongue, unable to hide his look of anger as the bowmen laughed. He turned around and walked away, heading down an intersecting street going toward Perc.

"Fuckers," he muttered, not at all happy with being their little gopher.

He wanted to stay and fight the enemy, too, but not because he had any interest in killing more people, but because that was the only way to keep the people of Tryst safe. He knew killing to save others was, in a way, counterproductive and would only lead to more problems down the way, like hatred, vengeance, and even more killing. However, Shirou knew that in this time period, at least, there weren't many other ways of negotiating. In his honest opinion, fighting for the use of more land, when there was already plenty for the Saxons to use as it was, was ridiculous. This could be because he was also from a country with a very small land mass, where every bit of space was used to the most of the people's abilities.

Of course, it wasn't as if Japan wasn't guilty of committing heinous crimes in an interest to gain more land. Japan, too, had conquered over other lands, hurt, brutalized, humiliated, tortured, and killed an incredible number of people, and had been beaten back as a result. However, the Japanese had reflected on their actions, and looked toward the future with an interest in bettering their society and becoming a country of good standing overall. It had simply taken the entire world to beat some sense into them.

Shirou looked down at his palms, frowning all the while. In this time period, though, the world wasn't anywhere near as united as it was in the future, and there wouldn't be any other world nations working to help Britain regain the land the Saxons were trying to control. All they had was a girl acting as a king, leading a small army with only a small supply of hope on the side. In this time period, land wasn't just a way to measure wealth and stability – it was also a source of pride. The pride of the people as they tilled it, farmed it, cared for it, gave back to it with their death, that was what the land was worth in this time.

When Saber had first come to him, he thought he had understood, to a point, why she was so prideful over a land and people that had turned their backs on her and spurned her. For him, a man born in a world where pride came in what you owned or were capable of doing as opposed to what your roots were, it simply wasn't something he could clearly understand. After living in the sixth century for a while though, and after watching the people of Tryst live their lives, he started to realize that what one gained wasn't things, as the villagers certainly didn't have much claim as far as that was concerned.

Their pride was in their line of trade – a baker was proud to be a baker, because it had its own particular strength. Bakers provided bread for people to enjoy their meals with. That was something to be proud over. Farmers provided the food, food materials, and other various things necessary for life anywhere. Ranchers provided milk and goods, beef, pork, and often times, chicken. Sewers, tailors, and armorers provided an assortment of clothing for the people to wear. Hell, even the feral cats were useful as they would often catch the rats that scurried everywhere and limited the sources of disease.

While Shirou couldn't say that he was particularly proud of his projection and strengthening skills, he supposed that, in a way, he was proud to be part of something that was hardly even noted down in history books. King Arthur may have supposedly been only a legend, but here Shirou was, in a history he never thought he would ever glimpse, making, well, history. He was proud that he could lend a hand in some way to the fight, even if it meant he had to kill to save. He was proud he had become such an integral part of someone's life, even if she was no longer around. Lastly, he was proud, and hopeful, that he would become a strength to someone who had done so much for him in the future. It would happen – he just had to figure out how to go about meeting her.

Now that Shirou thought about it though, what was he supposed to do even if he _did_ meet her? He had already considered this situation several times over the past few months, but each time, he came up short of an actual plan. Even if he were to, say, find Camelot and get into the town, how would he go about attracting her attention? Myrus had told him not to be too flashy with his powers, but then, nothing short of taking down a knight would make him stand out. Maybe he could act as a worker who took provisions into the castle, and work his way up from there? No, that would take far too much time. Who knew how much time he had left before Mordred's betrayal.

Okay, fine, well, maybe he could go up against Morgana? No, that was a ridiculous idea – Rin would've slapped him for that one. How could he, a novice mage, even dare consider going up against a pro who rivaled Merlin himself? Well, maybe he could go seek help from the Lady of the Lake? No, that was a double-edged sword, and he didn't even know where the lake was. Okay, how about saving different towns from dragons and making a name for himself that way? No, that was stupid. He couldn't even kill the one that attacked Tryst. Fine, then maybe he should just defeat all of the Saxons and free Britain for good! Well, no, that would require actually becoming a fighter strong enough to do so.

_A-a-a-and I'm back to where I started. I'll have to think harder on this later._

He was so deep into his thoughts that when he finally looked up see the village of Perc from half an hour's walk away, there was no missing the long trails of smoke filtering up into the dirty-grey sky. It seemed almost as if there was a halo of smoke swirling around Perc, swarming it. Shirou gaped over at the burning village, swallowing hard as his heart began to beat harder and faster. He began to walk forward faster, bit by bit, his gait becoming a jog, and then eventually turning into a flat-out run. Shirou saw his breath come out in several puffs as he gulped in air while running towards Perc. What would have normally taken thirty minutes sank down to close to ten when he ran at his fastest speed.

Shirou slid into the town, seeing the destruction to not just buildings, but the streets as well. His gaze looked all around him, and he pulled up the neck of his shirt to cover his nose from the density of the smoke. Everything was burning so much, that it was hard to see much of anything any further than a few meters away without using his archer eyes. Shirou took a small step backwards, unsure of where to go, when he heard a scream from behind him. He spun around, immediately projecting Kanshou and Bakuya, and sped forward through the billowing smoke. He broke through the barrier of smoke, with it swirling around him as he jumped out.

Right in front of him, barely twenty meters ahead, he could just barely make out the forms of several people. He could tell there were several women within the group as few of them screamed for their lives. Grounding himself quickly, Shirou sped forward as fast as he could manage, slamming his body into a soldier with his sword raised high in the air. The soldier fell down against the few others with him as Shirou rolled across the ground, before quickly rising again.

Shirou cocked back Bakuya in his right hand and threw it hard at the three soldiers, watching as it swirled around, angling back by cutting through two of the men's necks and flying straight back to his hand. Before Bakuya had even come back, Shirou had already dashed forward, sliding to a rolling stop before using his momentum to jump up and execute a flying lateral spin through the air. As he was coming down, Shirou again used his rotational force to heave Bakuya, strengthened within barely a second, at the remaining soldier, the sword cutting through the man's armor like a knife through butter.

Slamming down onto the ground, Shirou jumped back up, grabbed his twin sword and spun around, eyes darting back and forth for more enemies. He heard the weeping coming from behind him, and frowned a bit. Turning around slowly, Shirou looked down at the four women and six children cowering against the side of a torn apart building. He frowned a bit more deeply when he saw how terrified the children were as they looked up at him with big, wide eyes. Clearing his throat, he asked,

"Are there any other survivors around?"

One of the women licked her lips and pulled her two children in closer towards her. A young brunette peered up at him, distrust obvious in her gaze. "If you're going to kill us, then be done with it already!"

"I just saved your life," Shirou retorted, dismissing her words quickly. "I'm not here to hurt you – I'm from Tryst. I was sent to check out the situation here in Perc to make sure everyone is okay."

Turning his head to look around, he continued, "Though, obviously, things are a lot worse here than expected..."

"The militia protecting us was killed off long before," spoke up a blonde, her voice deep and hoarse, probably from the smoke. "We were barely able to hide away, but when those...brutes, destroyed our hiding place, we were forced to come here."

Shirou nodded. All right, he now had a better understanding of the situation, but that put him in a bind. There were undoubtedly more soldiers still running around, but he had to protect these people. Would it be a good idea to hunt down the soldiers first, or secure the safety of the villagers first? Even if he wanted to make sure they were safe, where could he possibly hide them? Most of the buildings were still on fire, or on the verge of collapsing.

"Are there any more survivors like you guys?"

The silence that met him was answer enough. He had a good idea of what had happened – most of the women and children who hadn't been killed off initially were hidden away while the men and militia fought off the enemy. Shirou betted that the enemy count was more than Perc had bargained for, and they'd been overrun. That would mean the men would have all been massacred, and that it was only a matter of time before the women and children would be discovered. Judging by the condition of the area, Shirou was of the opinion that most of the women and children had been caught along the way, and that these ten people had been lucky to last as long as they had.

Well, even so, what was he supposed to do with them? Perc obviously wasn't safe, and Tryst wasn't in any better of a situation. Maybe it would be better to try to hide them away in some kind of cubby hole somewhere where the soldiers were least likely to look, but then again, what if they were caught? Shirou would have never been able to forgive himself if anything had happened because he didn't take the right precautions.

"All right," he said, making up his mind and turning to the ten survivors. "I'm going to take you guys to Hwol. We should get going."

The blonde who spoken up before hesitated. "What? But that's so far away. We'll never make it."

"Well, you can stay here, but I can't guarantee you'll be very safe. Hwol's militia count is bigger, and it's way further away from the border than Tryst or Perc. I doubt as many soldiers went there, so it's got to be a lot safer than here, at least."

"You... Are you sure you can get us there safely?" asked the brunette, still unable to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"I gave an oath to someone that I would protect every single person to the best of my ability," Shirou explained, still looking around for possible enemies. "I may not be the best fighter out there, but I won't let anything harm you while you're in my care. Now, come on. We've got to get out of here."

One by one, the women and children stood up, warily looking at him. He nodded once, turning away from them and looking down the street. He gripped his twin daggers tightly, raising his chin as he readied himself for the journey ahead.

"No matter what happens," he warned them softly, "don't ever stop running. I'll take care of every enemy I see, so don't even pay attention to them and keep running."

With that said, Shirou ran off down the street, briefly checking back to make sure the women were keeping up. Grunting slightly when he realized the children might hold them back a bit, he slowed his pace and looked straight in front of him.

Left, right, up, oblique left, oblique right, upper right, upper left, in front, maybe behind? No, left again, right again, were they above?

Shirou kept looking around him as they finally escaped Perc and headed down toward Hwol. They were making good time, and there weren't any enemies in front of them at all. It would be nice if their luck could –

He barely heard just the smallest clink of metal before he turned his head around to glance behind all of them. Just as he saw a soldier running up behind one of the children, maybe a child of nine or ten, Shirou quickly stopped, shifted his weight, spun around and dashed around the group to parry and counterattack the Saxon warrior.

His own blow was blocked and he spiraled around, lashing out a foot and slamming it into man's side. He launched Kanshou around to the side, and sliced through the air at the soldier with Bakuya. The soldier jumped back far out of Shirou's reach before yelling out when Kanshou delved into the back of his right leg. Shirou sped forward, jumping and slamming his foot against the left flank of the man, sending the enemy tumbling down. Repositioning his grip on Bakuya, he slammed the sword into the man's neck, grabbed Kanshou, and ran away again to meet up with the group.

As he had told them to do, they had continued running forward even as he was fighting the enemy at their heels. He was about to run up and take point when an arrow flitted past him and sank into the ground right behind the older child. Shirou grunted again as he shifted to the side quickly and batted away the next arrows out of the air with his swords. He cut through a third arrow before quickly dematerializing the swords, projecting a bow and arrow, fueling his archer eyes with magic, and taking aim.

Shirou's first arrow redirected the trajectory of an enemy's arrow before he quickly fire off his own attack, aiming the arrow to fly directly through the eye slits of the man's armor. Changing targets, Shirou projected two more arrows, and let them zoom straight at two more soldiers, hitting one in his left thigh and the other in the gap between his torso and shoulder armor. The one with the leg injury fell to the ground hard, but the one he'd hit in the shoulder was still running towards him. Shirou strengthened an arrow, set it in his bow, drew back the drawstring and let it soar to strike the man in his chest, sending him flying back against the ground.

Seeing three to four more soldiers charging out of the smoke, Shirou quickly loaded another arrow before something caught his eyes. Recalculating, he turned his aim over to the supports of one of the larger building, strengthened his arrow, and sent it flying. The arrows zipped straight through the heavy, wooden support of a tall, guard tower, completely smashing apart the support beam. The heavy tower buckled, and he supposed the groan of the wood must have caught the attention of the soldiers. They turned back to look up once before quickly trying to run away out of its reach. Shirou readied five more arrows, letting them fly quickly to land in front of the fleeing men, making them hesitate just long enough for the tower to fall down atop of them.

Shirou turned away just before the tower touched down on them, instead running forward to catch up with the others. He readied more arrows as the group ran, slipping three into the bow's slots. His eyes glanced left and right, with an occasional glance back to ensure they weren't being followed by anyone else.

Pushing forward, he ran to the front of the group, taking notice of their conditions. They were normal women, who didn't indulge into too much exercise apart from their specific trades, but he knew for a fact that every job in the sixth century seemed to require remarkable endurance and stamina. In a way, it was enough that they were able to run for so long – it had already been twenty minutes – without stopping. A trip from Perc to Hwol was about two hours under normal circumstances, and that was while walking. A jogging or running pace would knock that down to approximately an hour, maybe less. He only hoped that they would be able to make it there in one piece – the women were starting to slow down from exhaustion. Shirou wasn't sure how much longer they could go for before they had to rest completely. The children were already beyond exhausted – luckily, only the older children were the ones running, with the younger ones being carried on their mother's backs.

He heard a yell come from behind them, and quickly spun around, leveling his aim at the disturbance. Coming up fast were another ten soldiers – where were they coming from? – with their weapons raised as if in declaration. Shirou quickly drew back his three arrows, aimed, and released the drawstring as fast as he could. Three soldiers fell, but that left him with seven others.

_Just think of them as demons! You've killed a bunch of those before! Pretend that Rin's behind you, ready to kill you with a Gandr Shot if you're stupid enough to mess up!_

The bow disappeared from Shirou's hands and just as he was about to project Kanshou and Bakuya again, a somewhat evil and demented idea flickered through his head. He'd have to be quick about it – two of them couldn't technically exist in the same time. Shirou was sick of these people though, and that weapon would be enough to kill them all in one fell swoop. Besides, who would believe that he possessed something like that? There was no way he would get into trouble over that.

A long, golden sword materialized into his hands, the blue grip fitting in his grasp easily. The golden guard glimmered under the rays of the setting sun and he drew the blade back, his prana flowing through his body and into the sword.

"EX–," he began, mimicking how she used to always say the command phrase. He raised the sword until it was over his right shoulder, ready to be slashed down.

Almost as soon as he was ready to launch the attack, he realized it was really stupid of him to be pulling this stunt. He didn't have nearly the prana that woman did, plus he was just being ridiculously stupid, period.

"CALIBER!" he shouted, sweeping the golden blade down across the nearest soldier and letting the built up prana burst from the sword and slash through every remaining soldier.

A faint golden light filtered up through to the sky, glimmering slightly before fading from sight. Shirou flopped down onto his butt on the ground, breathing hard as he realized what he had just done. _I just copied her attack... A very bad version of her attack... I'm wiped._

He thought he now had a better clue of just how strong a Servant Saber had been. He'd only been able to pull off an attack worth maybe fifty of his prana, and it had barely killed seven soldiers. Her attacks usually ranged in the two hundreds, and leveled buildings, rivers, and maybe they could even level mountains. Shirou gasped for air as he breathed in and out. His archer eyes were still activated, but he couldn't see anyone anywhere near them.

Back when he was training with Rin, she had always become so frustrated with his lack of prana, that she had researched incessantly for ways of producing more than normal. Due to Shirou having so many circuits for a normal person, she had realized that he was capable of increasing his capacity, and had forced him into doing an incredible number of experiments; most experiments involved him drinking something and feeling sick for a week afterward.

_"Technically, Shirou,"_ Rin had begun, holding up her finger as she always did when about to enlighten him about something, _"it shouldn't actually be possible to increase your natural output of od. It's simply something you're born with. What we're doing here is bending the laws of magic itself to accommodate for our own selfish goals. Well, I don't really consider that a problem, but this _could_ actually kill you. It will also provide me with a decent source of research for my final exam project."_

_"So, I'm just your guinea pig..."_

_"Ah, so you finally realized your position," _she had countered with a small grin._"Don't worry though. I won't let you die. After all, you still owe me rent and for all of the gems I used to help you take out Berserker. You did promise to pay me for the rest of your life, if you recall."_

Demon.

Shirou shuddered as he recalled her evil grin and the torture she had inflicted upon him. She had been a demon – a demon that luckily Sakura had never quite spawned into. Maybe it was good that she had been sent to the Matous, in a way. He couldn't imagine having two Rins together in the same town. That wouldn't have been good for his sanity.

At some point, she had finally recruited help from various "friends" of hers, and they had worked to increase his od output by around two to three hundred. It required him feeling and looking like death for a couple of months, but it did come into handy. He was able to project more and more, and it helped him create his Reality Marble more often than usual. It had also helped him keep up with Rin when they were fighting out in the field. If she hadn't done all those experiments, there is no way he would have ever been able to take anything down, and there would have been no way to replicate Saber's attack at all.

Using his Servant's Noble Phantasm may have worn him out, but he couldn't help but reminisce over those two weeks she had been with him. Shirou couldn't remember being yelled at so much in his life, and all of it was done over a period of two weeks. She'd yelled at him for his recklessness, his inability to consider future actions, his inefficient manner of thinking, his ridiculous questions, – asking her for a super attack that would take out a Servant in a snap had seriously, seriously been a bad idea – and for his general incompetence. In a way, though, he really missed just hearing her yell at him. He missed seeing how happy she'd become when she ate something delicious, and how embarrassed she'd been after they had...

_I miss Saber..._

Shirou popped his head up, thinking that he was forgetting something. He cleared his thoughts quickly before a light bulb flashed on in his head.

"Oh crap, the villagers!" he shouted, coming to his senses.

He pushed himself up and spun around, ready to rush to their rescue. All of them had already stopped running though, simply staring at him with large eyes. Shirou frowned, his body complaining as he pushed himself up, and he looked back at them, somewhat hesitant.

"...Uh, hey guys...?"

The blonde woman stepped forward slightly, her hands clasped in front of her chest.

"Your Majesty?"

"What?" Shirou asked, his face blank. "Huh?"

All of the women, except for the one brunette who continued to glare at him, fell to their knees, bowing their heads.

"His Majesty has come to help us! Lord willing, how I have awaited this day!"

"What?" Shirou repeated, thoroughly confused.

"My apologies, Your Majesty. We were unaware that it was you, come to save us. Will you please forgive us for ever doubting you?"

"What?" This was the third time Shirou was forced to repeat his words.

"His Majesty has come to aid us!" another woman chimed in. "Children, what do you think you're doing? Bow down to the king who has come to save us all from the evil conquerors of another land!"

What were they going on about? The king was here? Who? Where?

Shirou looked around to see if he could see Saber anywhere, but all he saw was the smoke from Perc in one direction, and a bunch of prairieland everywhere else.

"Are you people stupid?" the brunette spoke up. "You think _this_ weirdo is the king? Why would the king be all the way out here, _alone_, just to save some people who are too dumb to move away from the border? Besides, the king was supposed to be a handsome young man, not some Scot demon! And he definitely wouldn't be wearing peasant's clothing either!"

That part stung a bit. True, he was nowhere near the level of Saber's beauty, but still, did she have to go that far? And what was this about them thinking that he was some sort of king? Nothing about him screamed out "king".

"Who else but the king can wield the sword of Excalibur?" argued the blonde from before. "Only one man is able to use that sword, or did you not just see that golden light? Who else could he be?"

"It's got to be a fake!"

"He even yelled out the word 'Excalibur'! What more evidence do you want, child?"

"No, she's right," Shirou was quick to say. "I'm not the king, I'm just..."

Ignoring the smirk on the brunette's face, he swear he saw something die within the eyes of the other women and children. What was it?

Thinking back on it a bit, Shirou realized that these people had just lost everything that was important to them: their town, their families, their work, their livestock, their lives, everything. Even if Hwol was okay, and even if they did beat back the Saxons who had stormed through the area, these people would never regain what was brutally snatched from them. It might not be such a big deal at the moment, but once all the dust settled, their pain and fears would catch up with them, leaving them with little to no hope for the future.

Hope. That's what it was that he saw dying bit by bit in their expressions.

In his time period, kings and such are simply figureheads that exist simply as an extension of former times, but here... Here, the king really was everything. The king managed everything, and made the country whole. The king took on the task of keeping the people safe, giving them reason to look forward to another day, giving them hope. Just as the king could take away lives, he could also give them back to the people. He was an essential existence to those in this time period, and without him, the people would be lost.

_But, Saber's not here_, he reminded himself, his eyes closing. Who knew if the messenger had made it as far as Camelot without incident? Who knew if Saber would ever make it in time to help them purge the area? What was Shirou supposed to do, just let the people die never knowing if their king even knew of their existence?

_This is part of what it means to be a hero_, Shirou thought to himself as he clenched his left fist. _These people need help, and I think I have the ability to do that. And, if the real king comes along, then well... I'll figure that out later when it happens._

"I just...didn't want anyone to realize who I was. I came here in secret," Shirou muttered, though loudly enough for the women to hear.

No. This was stupid. Who the hell was he kidding? Who would believe a lie like that anyway? Besides, seriously, what would the real king do to him when she found out he was impersonating him? This was stupid. He wasn't doing this.

Shirou was about to take back his words, again, until he glanced up at the women and saw their faces slacken with relief. The brunette frowned at him suspiciously, but not even she could hide the slight drop her shoulders made as her tension began to fade away. Another woman clutched at her chest, genuine tears beginning to fall. A few of the younger children began to cry as well, though they weren't actually aware of why their mothers seemed so happy. The blonde simply bowed over and over, whispering, "Thank you, my king, thank you!"

"We knew the king would not forsake us!"

"We will be triumphant in this battle!"

"The Lord has graced us so!"

"With this, we're saved!"

The brunette looked down at the women, grasped at her left arm gently with right hand, and shyly turned towards him. "You... You are truly the king?"

Shirou was a terrible liar. He couldn't lie to save his life. He knew this, so he decided that instead of a simple yes, he'd try:

"Only if you really choose to believe I am."

Oh, awesome. It even sounded cool! Which was good, because on a "cool" scale of one to ten, Saber always managed to score around five hundred or so.

"Then, I'll choose to believe that you are who you say you are," came the soft reply.

Shirou smiled a bit. Girls were girls, no matter what the time period. He was pleased, in a way, to see that her tough exterior was just a wall protecting her softer self. Then, with a small frown, Shirou took a step back to his oblique right, and looked back at the burning village in the distance.

"I will make sure to get you all to Hwol safely, but we have to move," he said, glancing back at them. "Have you rested enough?"

Each woman rose slowly, the children following soon after them. No words were traded between him and them, but even without saying anything, Shirou realized they were ready to follow him to Hell and back if it he demanded it. He felt his heart begin to pound harder as he realized the amount of responsibility that had just fallen onto his shoulders, and he gritted his teeth. It was a heavy responsibility to take on. Shirou turned once more to look at the burning village behind them, and to check to see if there were any other soldiers making their way towards to the group. Seeing nothing with his archer eyes, Shirou walked to the front of the group and took the lead.

"We're leaving now," he said softly. "Make sure to stay close, and remember what I said earlier. No matter what happens, keep running. I will keep you safe."

He started running forward, listening to the footsteps and brushing of clothing as the women began to follow him as well. Shirou was nervous – not only because he was trying to impersonate someone so far above his level it might as well have been in outer space, but because he had to make sure to project Excalibur more frequently now, instead of his usual twin swords. He wasn't a swordsman by any means, but if he ever did attempt to use any swords, he would always use two at a time. Having learned his fighting style from watching the back of Archer for a brief amount of time, he felt his body automatically adopt a dual-wielding technique. Shirou may have hated how his "future" self had turned out, but there was no denying that Archer had optimized his abilities to the best they could go.

While Shirou could manage two-handed swords somewhat okay, his mediocre technique would not do justice to Excalibur. Then again, there was also the issue of two identical weapons existing together in the same time. That wasn't technically possible, but perhaps it was possible since Shirou's version was only a replica, not the genuine article. He frowned, realizing he would have to apologize to Saber whenever he finally met her, even if she wouldn't understand why. Then again, he didn't really want to explain that he had impersonated her – who knows how angry she might get if he did.

Looking up, Shirou narrowed his eyes as the group closed in on the town. They were about fifteen minutes away, but he could tell from this distance that Perc hadn't been the only village to have been alight with flames. Hwol was definitely in worse shape than even Perc had been, and he could barely tell out the clanging of a sword fight.

Suddenly, he felt his instincts scream out at him to stop, and barely within a moment, Shirou had Kanshou and Bakuya in his hands. He blocked an oncoming arrows before shifting his weight forward to send Bakuya flying through the air as fast as he could throw it. Shirou used Kanshou to knock another arrow out of the air and held out his right hand as his white sword came spiraling back, soaked with red. He flicked Bakuya to the side to shake off the blood and frowned as he readied himself for more oncoming soldiers.

Shirou glanced behind him, seeing that the women had intended to keep running, but their way was blocked by more soldiers branching out from Hwol. The redhead edged around the group, motioning silently that they back up in the direction they came from before they were all completely surrounded. He knew that as soon as took a fighting position, the real battle would begin, and he wanted to sure they were far out of reach before he began.

Looking both to his left, right, and directly in front of him, he counted around thirty soldiers. That was a lot more than he was really ready to take on. Honestly though, Shirou didn't have much of a choice if he planned to keep the villagers safe from harm as he'd promised. He crossed his blades, readying himself to attack the men opposite of him.

"I'm going to punch a hole through their lines," Shirou said aloud to the group behind him. "As soon as you think it's safe, get out of here and head to the village. I'll keep them busy."

He didn't wait for a response from them before dashing forward, reinforcing his tattered clothing as he readied his swords. He sped towards the group blocking the path going directly towards Hwol and slid down underneath their swords to land in the middle of the group. Then, he rose and, after dissipating his twin swords, rematerialized Excalibur again and spun in on his heels, slamming the golden sword into every man circled around him.

The men who were not slashed down took a few steps, not even paying any heed as the group of women and children ran slowly past them. Most of the men's eyes were on the sword Shirou was holding, looking both astounded and perplexed as Shirou grunted and shifted back into a fighting stance.

"That's the sword Excalibur – the one the Briton king owns!"

"What's the king doing all the way out here? I thought he was supposed to still be in his castle!"

"The king can't possibly be alone! His forces must have us surrounded! We must warn the rest of the troops!"

Shirou frowned, his eyes shifting left and right as the soldiers backed up. One soldier, who appeared the oldest of the entire lot, raised his sword and pointed it directly at Shirou.

"And what if the king was indeed stupid enough to come alone? Look at him – he is nothing but a boy, as the rumors had said! I say that we take his head here and now, and declare this war won!"

This wasn't good, Shirou slowly came to realize. The older man was raising the morale of all the others with his words – well, Shirou just had to eradicate the source of the danger before it grew to be too big. He adjusted his grip on the sword, bent down as he'd always seen Saber do, and burst forward, heading straight for the older man. The older soldier, while seemingly shocked that he had suddenly been targeted, managed to raise his sword to parry Shirou's forceful, upward slash.

Shirou jumped back quickly and then dashed forward once more, opening his guard as he released his left hand from the sword's grip and used his momentum to slice through the air at the man. Once again, the Saxon blocked his strike before following up with one of his own thrusts. Shirou quickly projected another sword in his left hand, wincing as it took the man's blow and shattered into several pieces. That had been his goal though, and Shirou once again grasped at Excalibur with both of his hands, planted his left foot forward to his oblique left, lifted the golden sword high over his head, and slashed down as hard and fast as he could manage.

It was an attack combination that would have never worked against someone of Saber's level, of course, but it was more than enough to work against grunts like these soldiers. The sword slammed into the base of the man's neck and sliced through his body diagonally, quickly killing him. As soon as Shirou had repositioned his grip on the sword again, he felt his torso duck down automatically, just barely missing a sword slicing across where his head had been.

Shirou dematerialized the golden sword and jumped forward into a somersault roll, quickly grounded himself, spun around, and flipped back a few times to create some distance. He wanted to take them out from a distance with his bow, but since the men kept rushing him, he wouldn't have enough time to line up his sights to take them out. Shirou barely dodged another thrust from a lance as he shuffled backward, his eyes flashing left and right. He hadn't taken a hit yet, but it was only a matter of time before his stamina ran dry.

Shirou quickly traced another sword to block another sword, only to have his hastily projected sword shatter again like his previous one. He didn't have enough time to thoroughly think up the composition of each weapon before another attack would come, that he would narrowly dodge.

"I never heard that the king could use magic!"

Shirou ducked down beneath another slash and dove forward into another somersault, quickly tracing the composition of the Bakuya. He raised it up just in time to block a downward slash from another swordsman, giving himself enough time to stand up and trace Kanshou as well. Parrying a blow coming from his right flank, Shirou leaned down on his left leg before springing to the side and landing a solid side kick on the soldier.

"Why is the king here?"

A different attack clanged against Shirou's clothing, denting it inwards and sending Shirou sprawling.

_I need time! I can't defeat them all on my own like this!_

Just as Shirou felt a icy shiver run down his spine as a soldier loomed over him, a barrage of arrows zipped forward, striking the three soldiers around him and taking them down. Shirou breathed in and out hard as he saw the three soldiers fall, and after swallowing, pushed himself back across the grass away from the rest of the soldiers coming towards him. They were too close – he didn't have enough time to get up and strike back!

"It's the king's reinforcements! They're coming!"

_What?_ Shirou thought, taking his eyes off of the enemy and looking back behind him.

He saw the glinting of silver metal as a few men rushed past him and engaged the enemy. Another man dashed forward and quickly offered Shirou a hand to lift him up from the ground. Shirou stared at the other man – he wasn't part of the king's guard, but was just one of the militiamen from Hwol. As soon as Shirou was on his feet, the man let go of his arm and slid in front of him, sword bared.

"The evacuees informed us of your situation, Your Majesty! We will take them down!"

Shirou stood in place, frozen as he heard the man's words. So, the women had made it to Hwol safely and apparently relayed that the "king" was fighting the enemy on his own right outside the village. That meant they were okay. Feeling the burden on his shoulders lift slightly, he frowned and glared in front of him at the remaining enemy. No, he wasn't finished yet – not until the last man fell.

He had enough od in him to produce another weapon, but only just. He wanted to use his dual swords, but if he had to keep up appearances with these troops, then he had to produce Excalibur. The issue with that was Excalibur required a significant amount of prana to form, and he wouldn't have another shot until he rested a bit. Well, it was now or never. Who knew if he would even have a "later" if the enemy in front of him was not taken care of beforehand.

Golden light once again swirled around in his hands, forming into the glorious Excalibur for everyone to see. Dashing past the men who had come to his aid, he zeroed in on two men hanging back from the others, ducked down right in front of them, and let loose an upward slash that crossed over both of them, effectively slicing through their armor and putting them down.

With Shirou's attack, the offenders were eliminated, and the redhead was left breathing in and out hard, his energy nearly depleted. The sword in his hands slowly vanished into nothingness, and he turned his tired gaze over to the militiamen who looked at him with steady gazes. The man who had helped him up walked towards him, bowing slightly.

"Your Majesty, we have come to your aid. However, we must respectfully ask that you instead venture to Tryst instead, as we will be sure to keep Hwol safe from the Saxon curs. Rest assured that we will fulfill our duties as expected."

Shirou grunted slightly, not sure how to respond. "Yeah, but, if I can help out Hwol somehow..."

"I will have five men escort you to Tryst," the man said, interrupting Shirou. "Please, leave Hwol in our capable hands."

"Uh, okay," Shirou agreed hesitantly.

It was actually good that they didn't want him to help them fight in Hwol. His energy was completely spent, and he wasn't sure he even had enough od left to augment his eyes, much less project another sword – at least, not without burning his circuits out, he didn't.

Five men stood at attention, bowing in front of him before forming a circle around him.

"Shall we be off, Your Majesty?"

Shirou nodded, his breathing still harsh as he pushed himself to walk forward. The man who had saved him before nodded at him as he passed, a small smile on his face. Shirou wasn't sure how to react to that, so he just ignored it since that was easier.

"May your journey be a safe one, King of Britain."

Shirou gave the man an odd look, feeling like there was underlying message the militiaman had wanted to express within his phrasing. He turned away and continued walking forward with the five men guarding him. They had a long way to walk, and Shirou wasn't sure he would make it, what with how tired he was and all.

It wasn't until the group of six was nearly twenty minutes away from Tryst that Shirou began to fall back. His feet kept catching on rocks or patches of grass, and he would trip a bit or stumble. He had help up for that long, but his stamina had finally run its course, and he simply couldn't keep up with the militiamen as much anymore. His stumbling began to happen so often that one of the militiamen was forced to hold onto his elbow as they continued forward at their snail pace.

"Your Majesty, I advise caution while you walk."

There it was – that phrase he had gotten so sick of hearing. He couldn't take it anymore. Shrugging out of the man's grip, Shirou stopped walking, his head down.

"I can't take this anymore," he said, giving voice to his thoughts. "You guys, I'm... I'm not the king. I just... I just wanted to..."

"Of course you aren't," the man in front of him said, his arms crossed and expression bored. "No one thought for even a second that you were."

Shirou's eyes widened and he abruptly rose his head. "What? But then why...? You guys kept saying 'Your Majesty, Your Majesty' all the time, but if you never believed I was him, then why would you...?"

"It's easier to hold out hope for a lie than continue fighting with the belief that we have been forsaken," came the response. "We knew who you were – you always came along with that seamstress, what's her name? Ceri?"

"B-but," Shirou stuttered. "Those women... They, and you... And those Saxons...?"

Another militiaman laughed, slapping his own thigh as he did. "That was a good one, I say! Did you see the look on those bastards' faces? 'The king is here?' 'Why's the king here?' 'I didn't know the king could use magic!' Jolly good show if I've ever seen one!"

"Yeah, those idiots can't tell the difference between a real king and an impersonator. All the more reason for us to give them the boot out of our country," chimed in the fourth militiaman. "Siencyn, remind me that I need to behead another few hundred of them to make up for that ridiculousness."

Siencyn, the one who had initially propped Shirou up while he stumbled along, continued to look bored as he looked at Shirou. He indicated they keep moving – standing around while there was a large battle going on wasn't safe for any of them, and they only had a bit more of a ways to go before they would reach Tryst again. In fact, all six of them could see the town from where they were, with the smoke billowing up into the dark sky.

Shirou stared at the village from where their position was, mouth agape in horror as he saw the flames licking the sky, the whole area looking like a large bonfire. Tryst looked so vastly different from the condition it had been in when he had left that he couldn't believe it was actually the village he'd resided in for the past few months. He felt anger begin to boil up – that was his home those Saxons were burning down. Sure, he hadn't been born there, but he had made a friend there, and made a life for himself there. They were ruining the lives of so many people who struggled just to simply live.

"Look, boy. We know you aren't the real thing," Siencyn said after the long silence, cutting into Shirou's thoughts. "Those women back there probably had known as well, but, we can't deny that your version looks like the real Excalibur. Everyone knows the king can't wield magic, though. We also know he doesn't look as foreign as you, and that he would never falter in battle as you've done."

Shirou frowned and placed his hands on his hips. "So, why did you keep up with the charade?"

"Like Teilo said," Siencyn continued, "it's better to have something to believe in than keep fighting without hope of saving our home. King Arthur would never journey this far out to save three villages stupid enough to continue living on the border. This was our problem, and even if the messenger did reach him in time, and even if the king chose to ride out to our aid, he would never make it in time."

Shirou narrowed his eyes, unwilling to believe that Saber wouldn't try saving all the citizens she could. "She... I mean, the king would never forsake his own people! He'll be here!"

"No," Siencyn said with a frown on his own face. "His Majesty will never make it in time. We are doomed to fail. Nothing could have prepared us more for this eventual fate."

"We can't just give up! What about all of those people who will die because all of their protectors just gave up?"

There was a slight pause and Siencyn turned to look at Shirou fully as they walked, his expression now serious. Placing a hand on Shirou's shoulder, the man said,

"Boy, do you know what it means to be a king?"

"How the heck would I know something like that?"

"To be a king is to be a beacon of light to those who are weary and tired," Siencyn continued, undeterred. "Kings stand for justice and all that is good, while at the same time, they are the very reason we suffer in the first place. To be a king means undertaking the burden of one's people and giving them a reason to hope and fight again."

Shirou said nothing, only turning his gaze away.

"In which case, you have been the perfect king for those of Perc, Hwol, and Tryst. A king is not simply something you become because of your lineage, it is a figurehead that stands for the people. It is a source of strength. Lad, no, Your Majesty, you have instilled hope as a king should, and made your people want to fight harder, no matter what fate their battle might lead them towards. You fought bravely, and if you must curse anything, then let it be your inexperience that impeded your ability to continue forward."

Shirou turned back to look at Siencyn just as he felt a fist slam into his hardened clothing. Shirou grunted, falling back a couple of steps as he glared at the other man. About to voice his complaints, he felt something hard smash into the back of his head, sending him flying forward. He groaned, feeling his consciousness fading as he tried to turn his head around to look up at the men surrounding him.

"However, your reign as king has now come to an end. Forgive us, for we are not strong enough to keep you alive and fight at the same time. May you grace others with your presence and give them a will to fight as you have us. I sense something special within you. It would be a shame for your life to be lost in a battle such as this."

A strained noise escaped the redhead's mouth as he struggled to stay awake. "...Wh–"

"Teilo, take him somewhere safe, and then return to fight with us. This man must be –"

Siencyn's voice faded away as Shirou lost consciousness.

* * *

><p>The first thing Shirou noticed aside from his pounding head was an absolutely putrid smell that seemed to infiltrate his nostrils and hang about, relentlessly torturing him. He tried to raise a hand to cover his nose as his eyes opened, and the hand only ended up clapping over his mouth as he bit back a scream. Right above him were the open, glassy eyes of someone who had died a good while before. Shirou, his heart beating fast from his shock, turned his head back and forth, seeing various body appendages of other random people, with some even still attached to the actual bodies.<p>

He cried out softly as his hands reached up to shift the body on top of him away, and get out of the pile of dead bodies. His hands trembled gently as he pushed aside the body, only to see yet another one atop of that one. This one, though, he'd known when the person was still alive.

"Alan," he murmured, mind reeling as the man's clouded eyes stared back at him, as if blaming Shirou for his death.

"No," Shirou gasped, shaking his head from side to side. "No, Alan... What happened to you, Alan?"

He shifted his body around, on the verge of breaking down. "Where am I? What's going on? Am I dead? Did I go to Hell? _Why is everyone dead?_"

Frenzied, Shirou hurriedly pushed body after body off of him, burrowing a hole up – down? – through the pile of bodies before finally breaking a hole through. The rays of a full moon basked him in light as Shirou pulled his shaking body out of the mound. His golden-brown eyes dashed back and forth as he tried to get a bearing on his surroundings. Shirou tried crawling off of the mound of bodies, but ended up tripping and tumbling down, his face slamming into one of the many bodies at the base.

Shirou clumsily pushed himself up and away from the large hill, stumbling back and hastily looking around him. The view that greeted him was not a welcome one, but the place was certainly familiar. Shirou walked around the mountain of bodies to see that he was in the exact place he had been when it had all begun: Ceri's grave. Just up the hill was where Ceri had gifted him with a handmade scarf, and where she had fatefully met her end.

His face was stricken with horror, and his eyes wide with disbelief and pain. Why had it come to this? What was going on? Why was he still alive? Why was he always the last one alive? Why, why, _why_?

Shirou turned around to look at the still burning village of Tryst in the distance. He felt like he was dead inside as he watched it burn. All the people, all of their lives, all of their dreams and desires had been snatched away in mere hours. Shirou wasn't sure what it was that forced him forward step by step towards what very well might lead to his own death.

_"You have instilled hope as a king should, and made your people want to fight harder, no matter what fate their battle might lead them towards. You fought bravely, and if you must curse anything, then let it be your inexperience that impeded your ability to continue forward."_

He had been too incompetent to be of any help to these people. He, the one who hadn't mattered, was again the person to survive everyone else. Once again, everyone else's lives had been thrown away simply so his could be saved. Was he doomed to repeat what had happened seventeen years before?

With every step, he neared closer and closer to the place alight in flames. In his mind, he no longer saw anything but the horrifying images of death and burning. He heard the same screams from all those years before, felt the hands of the people dying grab at his boots, and felt the pain of those who had suffered while he continued moving forward.

Shirou wasn't sure when he actually made it into the town. Everything in his mind was a mess – was he still seven years old, back in the fire caused from the fourth war? Was he twenty-four, roaming aimlessly through a village in the sixth century, a village that had had people full of life, hopes, and dreams? Was he in the depths of Hell, burning for all eternity? Was he in a nightmare, fated to repeat forever?

Shirou never even noticed that he was being attacked until his swords were in his hands and a soldier was falling down in front of him, blood spurting out from the man's gaping wound. The next three men to see him fell as well, though Shirou wasn't entirely sure how. Maybe he was actually back with Rin, just doing some maintenance cleaning of demons in the area. A grin crept across his face. That was it – he had to be with Rin, just doing some run-of-the-mill mission for the Association.

He heard laughter come from behind him, and Shirou turned to acknowledge the sound, blood splattered across his face and clothing.

"Hey Rin," he gasped out, his throat strangely hoarse, as if he had been screaming. "Let's take care of these and go home, okay? I really need a vacation after this."

Yes, he had found his happy place. When he was with Rin, things were hectic, but nothing bad ever happened. Rin was always right behind him, protecting him from anything that might hurt him. She was always shielding him from the inevitable, scolding him for his stupidity, shyly assisting him when he needed her most. That's right, she had always been there for him.

A flash of golden hair styled up in a tight bun with a braid wrapped around it and eyes the color of the richest shade of emerald crossed his mind.

Shirou frowned. What was that? It was interfering with his happy place, the place where everything made sense and he was warm and peaceful.

_"I became your sword, defeated your enemies, and protected you."_

Who was that? Who was talking to him?

Shirou eyes stared on emotionlessly as more blood splattered across his face from something. That's strange, he couldn't ever remember fighting a demon that had blood still in its body. Most of them were the undead, or just energy in corporeal form. They couldn't possibly spurt out blood.

_"I am glad to have fulfilled this promise."_

It was that voice again, Shirou realized as his blade sliced through yet another demon. Where were all these things coming from, and what was that voice in his head? What had that flash been? Why did he feel as if he was forgetting something important?

_"In the end, there is one thing I must tell you."_

_No, don't_, Shirou pleaded inwardly. Somewhere deep within him, he felt that if he heard the words the voice wanted to tell him, he would lose his happy place. He felt like he wouldn't be able to go home anymore, see Rin again, hang out with Myrus some more, finish working on the several projects that were always lining up in his side business. He felt like something would end, that something inside of him would die if he heard those words.

"No," he whispered, swords slicing through something else, before finally, silence surrounded him.

Shirou felt the heat, and heard the crackling of the flames, but the cries of the demons were gone. The whispers of those he had left to die while he continued living faded away. The pain he felt for surviving began to ebb.

_"Shirou,"_ the voice begins, eating away at him, desperate for its words to be heard, _"I love you."_

Then, just like that, Shirou felt his warmth and happiness turn cold and barren, with the world he had invented from bits and pieces of his memories breaking, cracking, and crumbling apart. Shirou's eyes focused as his mind was thrown back into the reality of his situation.

"Saber," Shirou murmured, still gazing absently at the flames of one of the burning houses in front of him.

"Saber," he repeated as he looked down at himself at all of the blood that painted his body.

He looked around him, seeing plainly for the first time all of the dead bodies of the soldier he had fought lying around. There were so many bodies that he felt like he couldn't count them all. In order to forget the reality of his situation, he had automatically diverted to his subconscious, bringing up memories that he enjoyed to make him feel safer and less vulnerable. He chose to believe that a dream was better than reality, a reality where he was insufferably weak and too powerless to protect those he needed to most. Shirou sank down to the ground, his body feeling cold and detached from his consciousness.

"I'm so sorry, Saber," he whispered, falling forward onto his hands, his fingers sifting through the blood as he clenched his fists. "I forgot what I came here to do. I lacked the ability to save your people. I'm only repeating my mistakes. _Why am I always the one left alive?_"

Shirou lifted his head to the sky, wanting to cry but feeling that he shouldn't be allowed to. So, the tears stayed within him, dying as he retreated within himself, afraid of what would happen if he chose to pick up the sword again. What if he just got more people killed again? Or worse, what if he couldn't save them even after determining that he would fight?

"Saber, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Saber, I'm sorry..." he repeated over and over as his rage and desperation threatened to overcome him.

He continued sitting there before finally rising. Navigating slowly and almost drunkenly through the bodies of several soldiers, Shirou walked towards where Ceri's house would have been before it burned down. He plopped down in front of the scorched hearth, looking at it blankly before crawling over to where one of the corners of the house had been. The ground was soft and easily maneuverable as he dug his fingers into the dirt, looking for what he had buried before the fight had begun.

The dirt crumbled apart as Shirou reached into the hole and pulled out his knapsack full of the things he had received from Myrus. Shirou then reached in further and pulled out the clothes Ceri had bought for him – he hadn't wanted them to get too dirty or bloody, so he had hidden them away beforehand. Then, after doing so, he then pulled out the scarf Ceri had knitted for him. His body shuddering, Shirou's trembling fingers clutched the clothing to his chest, desperately wishing he had been stronger.

"Ceri," he gasped, clutching the clothes more tightly. "Ceri, I'm so sorry! I couldn't protect them! Ceri, Saber, I'm sorry!"

Lifting his face to the smoky sky, he cried out his frustration and miserableness to the world.

"AAAHHHHHHHHH!"

* * *

><p>As soon as Arturia and her men crossed over the hills leading to Tryst and she saw the smoke billowing into the beautiful, sunlit sky, she realized they had come far too late. While she could only see Tryst for certain, she had an inkling that Hwol and Perc were in no better state. Pulling back the reins of her snow-white steed, Arturia turned back to face the soldiers lined up behind her and Bedivere.<p>

"Captain Alwyn, send forth fifty soldiers to both Hwol and Perc. Have them check every nook and cranny of each village, down to the last grain of dirt. If there are any survivors, treat them, and provide them with sustenance. If they should run into any enemies, quickly have them dealt with. I will not allow this atrocity to spread further inland. Twenty soldiers will accompany me to Tryst to search there."

The captain bowed from where he stood before turning around and walking towards the soldiers under his command. Arturia then turned to Bedivere, who looked at her from atop of his own chestnut-brown horse.

"Bedivere, judging by what we have already come upon, I cannot say with confidence that some Saxons did not make it out of this conflict alive. I want you to take the remaining men, split them into teams of your own determining, and run a perimeter search within three leagues in every direction. Do not venture too close to the enemy border, however. Stay vigilant, and strike down those who would oppose you, should it come to thus."

Bedivere bowed to her, though his expression seemed concerned. Noticing, she faced him again.

"Something troubles you, Bedivere?"

"Only twenty will attend you, sire? Surely, that number is too little to properly protect you should something happen."

"My instincts tell me that even twenty may be far too many for this situation," she responded calmly. "Do not stress yourself over this, Bedivere. If something takes place that goes beyond what I have calculated, I will be certain to send for help. However, providing that you sweep the area well enough, I much doubt it will ever come to that."

"As you say, Your Majesty," Bedivere said, bowing again. "The men and I will survey the entire area and eliminate those who might oppose us."

"I await your news with bated breath," Arturia said in return, her facial features warm as she regarded the knight.

Bedivere turned away and directed the remaining 150 men – thirty of the 300 had been lost in a small skirmish with advancing Saxons – into different groups for reconnaissance. Arturia watched Bedivere for a short moment before turning away herself to look down at the twenty men who would go with her to Tryst.

"We set off now," she said simply, shifting her horse around and walking away without paying any attention to the various responses that met her command.

It hardly took another twenty minutes before Arturia dismounted her horse, stroking it along its side gently. One of the soldiers walked up her, bowed, and then stood at attention as he awaited her orders. She stroked the horse a few more times before patting it softly and then meeting the soldier's gaze.

"And you would be?"

"Heini, Your Majesty, of the Fourth Company."

"Heini, then. Take your soldiers and begin searching the village. If you happen upon a body, take it over to that area over there," she said, pointing towards a large, open area beside the village, "and we will give them a proper burial once the village has been swept in full. Inform me if you come into contact with any survivors."

"Sire!" the soldier said, bowing. "By your command, sire!"

Straightening her shoulders, Arturia gave her horse one last glance before walking into the wasted village herself, her emerald-green eyes taking in every detail of all the damage. Her armor clinked as she walked forward steadfastly, and she noted how quickly all of the soldiers had dispersed across the village area to search for survivors. Walking down the dirt path, or what was left of it, Arturia looked around her at the damage that she could see. The village had been small, but spread out, so it was difficult to see how bad some parts were.

Just from looking around in the immediate area, she could tell that a great deal of fighting had taken place. Most of the bodies of the villagers seemed to have been picked up, but she wasn't sure if they had been buried, burned, or simply hidden from the main village. She did see a large number of soldiers' bodies lying everywhere – she recognized the armor of the Anglo-Saxons, but she couldn't place the black leather armor of the other men. It wasn't unheard of for villages to have their own type of security if they weren't under her rule, but this was one of the first times she had actually seen such a sight for herself.

Arturia bent down to turn over one Saxon, tilting her head when she saw one slash going diagonally along the torso. Many of the other soldiers had been stabbed in an effort to pierce the person's armor, but this one had been sliced right through, like cheese. Even her Excalibur would have trouble slicing through metal like what she was seeing on the man's body. Whatever had killed him had been very strong, and perhaps already dead. She rose to analyze the situation a bit more when her right sabaton struck against something hard on the ground, and she paused to look down.

Arturia fell back down to a knee, reaching out with her hand to gently dust off dirt piled upon the sign she had found. It had been scorched badly enough that it was hard to tell out what it had originally said. The best she could make out was a "B" and a "ry". A bakery, she realized, eyes narrowing as she looked at the empty space to her right. Standing up, she dropped the sign with a soft clunk and walked to what had probably been the center of the store. There wasn't much to see or survey, but there was a chance that the wooden supports lying atop of one another might have been hiding something – perhaps a clue of sorts of what exactly had taken place.

Gingerly pushing on one of the large pieces of wood to get an understanding of its weight, she frowned a bit. It was quite heavy, even after being as burned as it had been. Looking up and around her, she found that none of the soldiers were in her immediate area, and so she needed to attempt to move it on her own. That was hardly an impossible task, but it would have been easier without her armor on. Bending her knees and grounding herself, Arturia slid her hands underneath one bar and after testing the weight again, hefted up the bar onto her shoulder to look at what laid below. Her brow furrowed further when she saw something – a hand? – sticking out from beneath the rubble.

Grunting slightly, Arturia pushed the bar up with strength that should not have been possible for her small body, and slammed a kick into the bar to send it falling in the opposite direction. The wooden support hit the ground loudly, but by that point, Arturia was already pulling off a second log. Her teeth ground together as she pulled the second bar, third bar, and then fourth bar off of the victim she had seen. She wiped her face with the back of her right gauntlet, sighing out from the slight bit of exertion. Stepping forward, Arturia bent down again to get a closer look at the person who had been unlucky enough to be buried underneath all of that weight.

Arturia's lips pressed into firm line as she saw how badly the body had been burned. It was a gruesome sight indeed. The man, no, it must have been a woman, was missing half of her face, with the other half looking molten and raw. Her remaining eyeball seemed to have melted and infused with the rest of her skin, and her hair had, of course, burnt to a crisp and fell out. Arturia wasn't sure which killed her first though – had she burnt to death before bleeding out, or had she bled out from the wound severing her torso from the rest of her body before the fire had consumed her?

Taking a closer look at the wound, she reeled back when she realized the woman had been pregnant, very much so. The baby had been taken in the same strike as the woman had, and Arturia clenched a fist when she only saw fetus' lower body. The head itself had broken off and burnt into a charred substance about half a meter away. At least, that's what she assumed the thing to be.

Arturia's frustration was palpable as she leaned back and silently motioned a cross over her chest and bowed her head in prayer. If only they had come a bit faster after receiving news of the impending attack, then they might have been able to prevent such a tragedy from ever taking place. Her gaze drifted back at the body-littered street as she tried to figure out what conspired there. From what she could tell, the citizens had been taken by surprise, and if the rest of the people were found in their houses just as this woman had been instead of outside in the streets, it might have possibly even been a surprise attack at night. However, if the militia for the town had been dispersed, then perhaps the town hadn't had enough time to evacuate everyone?

The bodies of the Saxon far outnumbered the body count of the local militia then, which meant the militia had either been very good at fighting, or that there was far more to this story than she could piece together just by looking around. Standing up, Arturia realized that without a full account from a survivor, she was not going to figure out precisely what occurred in the village. Of course, there was always the chance that her men searching around in the other villages and out around the area might develop some further insight, but she didn't think that altogether likely.

A soldier came running up to her and she turned toward him expectantly. The soldier bowed.

"Your Majesty, we have discovered a survivor!"

A survivor in this chaos? That was news, indeed. Arturia gave him her full attention and placed her right hand on her hip as she waited for him to speak further.

"I have posted a couple of guards near him though, as a precaution, sire."

"A precaution?" she asked, frowning slightly. "Heini, wasn't it? What could you possibly gain from putting soldiers on guard against a mere villager?"

"Sire, he is not from this land. His hair is redder than the sun at its apex, and he did not speak once when we addressed him. I fear that he might hail from Scotland, and if so, he may very well be the enemy."

"Preposterous," Arturia said, immediately casting away the soldier's concerns. "What would a Scot be doing this far south? And on top of that, why would he simply be idling about in a burnt down village? Where is this man, so that I may judge his situation for myself?"

"He sits in the northern area of the village, Your Majesty. He is...honestly, quite hard to miss."

"Very well, I will see to this mysterious person," she said, turning away. "In the meantime, dig up this woman and move her in her entirety to the open space as previously directed."

"By your command, Your Highness."

Arturia moved out of the way as Heini began clearing the area a bit more to get to the woman. She stepped around the mess of rubble and stepped out into the street, her focus solely on the two soldiers standing next to someone. It was no wonder she couldn't see the man before – portions of some houses were still standing and had blocked the view from her position. Her eyes narrowed as she drew closer. It was indeed rare to see a man with such red hair around these parts, and while she had scoffed at Heini's claims, she couldn't help considering that perhaps a Scot had indeed filtered down through the country.

Perhaps he was an assailant? A possible ally of the Saxons, or maybe he had some kind of contact or acquaintance in one of the small villages? No, that wouldn't make sense – the hate for their Britain's neighbors to the north was particularly deep, but there were always exceptions. Maybe he was engaged in sexual relations with a woman within the village, or perhaps he had been stolen as a child and raised a Briton? It wouldn't be too absurd for a child who has lost everything to be adopted by a family who could care for him. Children are easily malleable and changed as well, so erasing the child's possible hate would be more than likely...

There were simply too many questions that she had. Arturia walked smoothly up to the two soldiers.

"Have you managed to communicate with him?"

"No, he has not responded to a single word we have said, Your Majesty," spoke up one soldier.

Pursing her lips, Arturia faced the redheaded man. "You there, do you understand the words I speak?"

There was a pause – perhaps hesitance? – and then, the man slowly nodded his head slightly.

"I see, then communication seems to not be an issue in this situation," she said, feeling slightly relieved. While she had dabbled in some foreign languages with Merlin, by no means could she declare herself fluent, or capable enough even of holding a normal conversation. Had he spoken Pritennic, she would have been forced to rely on her minimal knowledge to speak with him.

Arturia looked down at the man. "I ask of you, are you a survivor of this village? Or perhaps you are indeed a Scot that I should treat as my enemy?"

The man kept his head down, almost as if nervous. She could hardly blame him – if perchance he were a simple villager, then she could only imagine the fear that would come from being watched intensely by a king and two of her soldiers. If it was fear, then she needed only create a situation which would allow him to relax a little more. If he turned out to be an assassin lying in wait, then, she would simply rid herself of him.

The king of Britain gestured for the two soldiers to leave her alone with the man. The two hesitated slightly until she looked at each of them in their eyes. Arturia did not say a word when she looked at them – didn't let out a peep, but the two soldiers straightened as if she had drawn her sword, ready to slice their heads off if they did not do as she asked immediately. The two men quickly bowed to her before making themselves scarce.

"There," Arturia said as soon as the soldiers were out of earshot, "we are now alone to speak freely. I would have you lift your head so as to better speak with you."

The man hesitated slightly before slowly and, almost tentatively, raising his head to look at her fully. She wasn't sure which part shocked her more, the beautiful golden-brown eyes that she had never before paid witness to, or the fact that beyond their color, she saw nothing within those eyes. Hatred, happiness, weariness, desolation – these things she could justify seeing, but with this man, there was simply...nothing. They were empty, completely and entirely devoid of emotion. No, this man was as much a victim to this war as anyone else – he had simply lived to survive and perhaps, tell the tale.

This...was unexpected, and she inwardly cursed herself. If only they had run here faster, or if only they had picked off the various soldiers beforehand, then she would not be staring down at the shell of a broken man. This damnable war needed to be ended sooner rather than later to stop such horrors from happening, if nothing else. Arturia unconsciously tightened her fists, one of the only hints telling of her anger.

The man stared at her without saying a word. Well, there was nothing he really could say. When he saw her fists clench, he knew without a word that she was angry. When he saw her eyebrows furrow slightly, he could tell she was conflicted. When he saw her beautiful green eyes shift slightly to the side, he knew she was considering past conflicts and reflecting on her actions. Then, when he saw her once again turn to look at him fully, facial features calm and collected, he knew she had come to a conclusion that she would carry out until its finish, her goal set and her mind unwavering. He knew she would follow through no matter what happened to her, so long as it was in the best interest of her kingdom and people as a whole.

Shirou only stared up at her, realizing with an unbidden sadness that there was nothing of his Saber in those eyes of hers. The cold, calculating, green eyes that peered down at him were ones that would show no mercy if he proved to be an enemy, and would barely reflect any kindness or warmth even if he proved to be an ally. Those...those were the eyes that he had seen when he had first summoned her accidentally. They were the same eyes that slowly transitioned from the cold frostiness of Antarctica to the warmest depths of the sun. Shirou realized, without a doubt, that he would never see that person, the one he had loved most, ever again. She was gone, forever.

He felt his torso shift forward unconsciously, his hands hitting the ground as he stopped himself. He was sure he had taken her by surprise, but Shirou had come to understand that for some reason, he had still held out some kind of hope that she would be in there, somewhere. He had still held out hope that she would smile that smile meant only for him, that she would hold out her hand for him to rise, and then continue dragging him around the city at a pace meant for only the strongest. Why would he ever think that was even possible though? He had been an idiot for even considering such a thing.

Arturia had felt the mood in the air shift slightly, though she was unaware of what had caused it. "Are you all right? Perhaps you have been injured?"

Silence met her question. She continued unperturbed.

"Ah, perhaps I should introduce myself. Yes, that would be most suitable, I suppose. I am –"

"I know who you are," came a harsh reply, interrupting her.

Arturia, slightly surprised over being interrupted, slowly closed her mouth. "I see. That will make things easi–"

"Why didn't you come earlier?" Shirou whispered harshly, once again interrupting her. "We sent a messenger. Why didn't you come?"

It was slightly irritating that he would dare interrupt her not just once, but twice. However, she realized he had just been through a situation most would not survive unscathed, whether mentally or physically. For that reason, and that reason alone, she would appease him.

Arturia's head bowed slightly, the best someone of her position could do as an apology.

"You have my apologies. Yes, we did indeed receive your messenger, and please understand that we departed soon thereafter. However, the trip here was long indeed. Your messenger may have taken longer than what is usual to arrive at my castle, due to his wound. While my troops did manage to cut down on time, there were simply too many stray Saxons that were necessary to cut down prior to our arrival. I cannot fully express my regret that we were not able to come to your aid far sooner."

"So that's it, then," Shirou said dejectedly. "He didn't make it there fast enough. If they had just sent an actual soldier like I'd warned, we wouldn't have... They wouldn't have..."

Shirou dug his fingers into the hard dirt, glaring at it as if it were the source of his pain. "All of this meaningless death, all of the meaningless suffering, all of the people who died... What was the point of it all?"

Arturia watched the man's shoulders droop as he lost steam, and closed her eyes momentarily. Opening them again, she asked in as gentle a voice as she could manage,

"Tell me. What took place here? I will admit that I may not have any right to force you to recall something you would prefer not to, but if I can somehow prevent the same tragedy from occurring again..."

Silence once again met her inquiry, and she chose to change tactics. "Then, could you tell me what happened to these soldiers? Was it the local militia that killed them?"

"I killed them," Shirou whispered. "I think."

That took her aback. He wasn't sure whether he had caused their deaths?

"I dreamt I was back with my friends, having fun, feeling free, and then...when I woke up..."

Shirou clutched at his head, feeling his body start to shudder again. "I... I was the last one left standing. I was the only one to survive. _Why am I always the last one left alive?_"

The last part had been shouted out, and she had to raise up a hand to calm down the alerted soldiers within hearing range of it. Arturia dropped her hand, and swallowed slightly. She had an idea of what might have occurred, but...

"So you were angry."

"Angry?" Shirou scoffed. "I was empty. Everything I've known for the past few months was destroyed in a matter of a single day. Just like before, everyone was killed while I was left alive. I had vowed to protect this town, but all I did was let it get mowed down like a person would be mowed down by a tank. These people had lives, dreams, goals! They had everything before _they_ got here! Everything! And now there is absolutely _nothing_! _Nothing!_ Angry? _There's nobody left!_ All the history of this place has been wiped clean! There is _nothing left_!"

Survivor's guilt. Arturia understood, or had grasped somewhat loosely that the man felt guilty for surviving everyone else. He felt guilty that he could live on when everyone else around him had died. That was a feeling she could not empathize with. People around her died, but she had reason to live on and keep reaching for a dream. The second Arturia fell, that was the second that her country, too, would fall in flames. She could not have that, so she had to keep living, pursuing, fighting. There was no option, no other way.

"Then, what will you do about it?" were the words she eventually asked in a low voice.

"Huh?" the man said, staring up at her, seeming slightly bewildered. "What do you mean, 'do'?"

"Will you stand and continue to fight, or will you sit there and await your own death?"

Shirou glared at her, his teeth gritted. "What? You... Do you even have a clue of how I feel right now?

"No, I don't," came the simple answer. "That is why I ask: what do you intend to do henceforth?"

Shirou couldn't believe she was asking that. What did he have left? Ceri was gone, the villages were gone, Saber wasn't his Saber, he had nothing. She expected him to rise up and try again? But what if he failed and the same exact thing happened again? What was he supposed to, fight and fail over and over until something happened to go his way? Is that what he was supposed to do?

"I don't know," Shirou answered honestly. "I'm just...I don't know what to do."

"You will not continue to fight, for the ones you have lost?"

That simple, innocent question pissed him off.

"I _did_ fight, and look what happened!" he yelled. "I fought until I was practically dead meat, and look what happened! Look around you! Don't you get what this means?"

Arturia gave a brief glance at the wreckage around her before looking at him again. "It means you are weak."

Well, that was a lot blunter than he had expected, although, it was definitely true. Shirou let his head fall forward again, unable to rebuke her statement.

"What of the people you swore to protect, though?" the king continued. "Do you plan to have had them die in vain? Do you not have a duty to keep fighting in their honor?"

"What am I supposed to do then?"

He was whining. He knew he was, but he was scared. Shirou wasn't exactly afraid of dying, but he was very afraid of failing again, and being the last one left alive to carry the torch the rest of the way. He was afraid of his weakness, his vulnerabilities, his incompetence. He didn't mean to whine, but what was he supposed to do? Seriously. What?

Shirou chanced a glance at the woman standing in front of him, but was hardly surprised to see she had that expression of annoyance on her face. It wasn't as blatant as it had been when he'd done something stupid during training with her or anything, but it was there all the same. Actually, he doubted she even realized she had given him that look, as it was gone almost as soon it had come.

"You would ask that a stranger, whom of which you've only just met, I might add, decide a course for a future that is yours and yours alone? A course that could possibly decide whether you live or die? This is what you have requested of the king before you?"

Her voice was certainly ripe with irritation though. Shirou winced. She was definitely right. He had to get his shit together. Sighing, Shirou sat Japanese-style and raised his head up fully. He bowed his head in apology.

"I'm sorry. You're right. I shouldn't have asked you something like that."

That seemed to assuage her slightly, and he felt the pressure of impending doom fade from her, slightly. It was still there, but she didn't seem ready to kill him anymore. When she put a hand on her hip and looked down at him with _that_ look, the only thing he could think of was whenever he pissed Saber off. She was teetering on the edge between anger and mere annoyance, so he had to tread carefully. At times like this, it was just better to stay quiet.

Arturia let out a soft sigh. For him to be confused was only natural. Losing her temper at him would not make things right, and it would make further conversation with him far more difficult.

"Do you have anywhere to go? Any relatives? Friends?"

"No," came the soft response.

"Then," she began, unsure of whether she should even bother, "would it not interest you to accompany my soldiers and I to Camelot and begin anew there?"

"Camelot?" the man said, his eyes looking into hers curiously. They really were such beautiful eyes...

Arturia frowned. This was not the time for that.

"Yes, Camelot. Would you be interested?"

"B-but... I can't fight, I mean..."

"There are many more duties available if you are averse to fighting, and all exist to help better prepare Camelot for fighting for a greater, stronger Britain. A gardener, or perhaps you could become a hostler. Maybe you would not be opposed to being part of the main guard for the castle, or you could help to take care of the castle duties as a sweeper, amongst other things. Far more duties than you may be aware of exist aside from fighting as a soldier."

Shirou blinked a few times. He hadn't actually considered all of the other stuff needed to run a castle. Obviously, there wasn't just a military. Someone had to take care of their armor, and their horses, and their weaponry. Someone had to provide the food, take care of the cleaning, and other menial tasks. He could even take care of the bathrooms, though that wasn't particularly the first duty on his list that he'd like to attempt. Shirou rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

Besides, wasn't this his chance to possibly get closer and keep an eye on her through her reign? Well, he doubted they would ever get very close – he hadn't made the best or coolest first impression. As long as he could remember how to deal with her and what her personality was generally like, he might, at best, be able to figure something out. He couldn't tell how old she was – hell, what if Mordred was already in the castle? Or wait, what if there wasn't much time until the Battle of Camlann? This was his only chance. He cleared his throat and looked back up at the woman who waited for his answer patiently. It was, after all, something he had to give careful consideration to.

"Okay, um, so, let me break this down. You're willing to take me back to your place to work for you? Just like that?"

" 'Just like that?'" Arturia echoed, tilting her head. "You mean, without any conditions, I take it? Providing you work your hardest at the tasks you are given, I do not foresee there being any problems."

"And, I could just, you know, join whatever job I want, no problem?"

She frowned, not understanding the point of his endless questions. "I am running out of patience, good sir. I am willing to help you as far as introducing you to those in charge of the task you wish to pursue, but no further."

"Okay, last question," Shirou said, holding his hands up in surrender to assure her. "In your, uh, Your Majesty's opinion, do you think I would be more suitable for fighting or something else? I'm not asking you for an end-all-beat-all option here, but more for some guidance, if you, I mean, Your Majesty could give me that?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, unsure of how to deal with the question. He was also obviously stumbling over her title, though, at least he appeared to be trying.

"In my opinion, though I am not certain why you would go so far as to ask me or why it matters," she started, still organizing her thoughts, "no, I do not believe you are in any position to fight. You have been wounded mentally, and quite deeply at that. I doubt I would much prefer such a loose cannon in my army. However, if you say that you would like to enter as a soldier, I will not hinder you, and will properly introduce you as I have promised."

"Okay," Shirou said simply, for lack of anything better to say.

"And your answer?"

Shirou nodded, standing up and making sure to bow. "I'll go, with your permission."

"Then this matter is settled," she said, her hands falling to her side as she turned away. "Stay here for now while my soldiers and I continue to search around this village for possible survivors."

As Arturia began walking, Shirou had a thought and quickly stumbled forward. He reached out to grab her by the armor but then quickly drew his arm back when he realized what he had been about to do. Saber may have tolerated it, but King Arthur most certainly wouldn't, and most certainly not by a stranger. He breathed in deeply, realizing he could've died from his stupidity just after making plans for the future. Shirou straightened his shoulders, and looked at her retreating figure.

"Wait, please," he called.

The king paused and then slowly turned back to look at him. "Yes? Was there something more you needed?"

Shirou walked up to her, still feeling somewhat uncertain. He held out his hand to her, and she merely glanced at it without moving at all.

"Um, I forgot to introduce myself before. I...my name is Shirou Emiya. I'm really grateful for this chance."

She shifted to look at him fully, her eyes not entirely as cold as before. She still didn't bother to move to shake his hand, and just as he was about to draw it back hesitantly, Arturia reached out and grasped his hand calmly and purposefully. She had accepted his shoddy apology and he felt the tension within him loosen up a bit.

"Mr. Emiya, then."

"Ah, just Shirou's fine," he said, not sure if he liked being called so formally by her.

"Shirou," Arturia repeated, letting go of his hand. "Shirou. Yes, the sound of that is much more preferable to me. Well, then, Shirou, please give careful consideration as to what you intend to do about your future. I will come to collect you when it is time to depart."

Was he a pack mule? No, don't get annoyed. You don't have the right to be annoyed.

He walked slowly back to the bag he had held so tightly in his grasp when the battle had ended. He still had so far to go, both mentally and physically. He had an in into Camelot now, though. He had a way to make things right for her. Things didn't start off so well between them, but he'd turn her opinion of him around, somehow.

Picking up the clothes he'd received from Ceri, he realized how cold it was. He had been sitting around all night in his torn up reinforced clothes, doing nothing but staring blankly in front of him. Shirou looked down at the heavy tunic, frowning.

"Ceri, I found her," he murmured. "I found her, and now, I'm never going to let her out of my sight. I'm going to protect her, as soon as I regain my courage. I don't think I have the strength, or the right to fight again right now, but maybe someday... Maybe someday I'll become a man that will make everyone proud."

He reached down and pulled off his shirt, after pulling out the magic from it. As he started to put on his brown tunic instead, he thought back on Saber's words. He could become a gardener, or work with horses, or something like that.

"Hm," he muttered, pulling the tunic on and sighing at the warmth. "I wouldn't mind cooking again... I wonder if that's an option. Maybe I'll try asking later."

* * *

><p>This chapter sucked. I'm sorry. I know, I tried though. I really tried. I hate this chapter, it feels rushed. Whine whine whine.<p>

Ah, but, I'm really lazy with rechecking my crap, if you haven't noticed. If there is anyone out there willing to beta for me... :)


	5. Chapter 5

Okay, I didn't particularly have much trouble with this chapter. Most of the time was spent doing all this research. Did you know potatoes didn't actually exist in England back then? Yeah, neither did I. No bananas either. Huh.

Anyway, here is chapter five. I have a poll up on my account page asking about your preferences for chapter lengths. I'll keep it up until around mid-December or so.

I also really appreciate everyone's reviews. I was surprised to get over twenty for the fourth chapter. Thank you all so much. Also, those who question the story or fault it, thank you! I sometimes question what you question, but you make me think about what I've written more, and that hopefully makes this into a much better story!

* * *

><p><em>"My soldiers, today we have paid witness to a great tragedy, the likes of which we have never seen come this day. Before you, in the plentiful beds, lay the bodies of befallen innocents, slayed in cold blood by an enemy that could never hope to comprehend honor, nor the way of the sword."<em>

Shirou walked in between the two horses of King Arthur and Sir Bedivere, his eyes downcast as he recalled the speech the king had made over half a day before. After all of the soldiers had finished digging up all of the bodies they could find, Arturia had held a funeral service so that the spirits of those fallen would have safe passage to their final resting place. Shirou had watched from the sidelines, his head bowed in prayer as Sir Bedivere spoke encouraging, yet somber, words for all of those in attendance. While Ceri had been the first person to come to his mind, Shirou had found flashes of all the people he had seen on a daily basis appearing in his head. It was just...difficult to acknowledge that the people he had seen smiling, milling about, doing their jobs, were now all gone, never to be seen again.

_"When a man takes up the sword, he thus declares that he will fight those who would oppose him, using his weapon as a means to forcefully pave his own path. The carnage and destruction that our eyes laid upon was not the scene of men who fought with honor, greatness, and a need to procure something to better themselves or their country. No, my friends, this tragedy was born purely from hatred, lack of pride in oneself and others, and an inability to perform for the sake of something bigger than oneself."_

Shirou glanced behind him at the marching soldiers briefly before looking forward again. When they had departed from the outskirts of Tryst to head back to Camelot, the king had initially suggested that he ride with her on her horse. When he refused, saying that was unnecessary, she had more than likely thought he still held some kind of grudge against her, and so suggested he ride with Bedivere instead. Shirou had refused once again, wanting to instead walk the entire way on his own. If he was beginning anew, then he had to learn how to walk on his own and get to his goal by his own power.

_"To slay an unarmed innocent is not only beneath a knight, or a soldier for that matter, it is utterly reprehensible. Even a boy knows not to attack those who cannot defend themselves, yet, as you have seen for yourselves, the Saxons know no such boundaries. Unlike yourselves, they have not learned what it means to value life, to value others, to fight for what is right and just."_

Their pace walking back was fairly slow and relaxed – he wasn't sure if it was because the men were tired from having rushed over from Camelot with hardly any rest, or if Arturia was being considerate of him, or what. Whatever the reason, he had to say he was pretty grateful for it. He had been away for nearly two days, and if he wasn't mistaken, had the beginnings of a cold coming on. Shirou didn't want to waste the medicine he had received from Myrus though, so he planned to wait until the symptoms possibly grew worse before he would drink down some pills.

_"The enemy we face is not one of man, but that of demons – beings that can only act on their desires and instincts as opposed to the resourcefulness and intelligence that is born from merely being human. I ask of you all, what kind of person would it take to brutally strike those who would mean you no harm? Is that how a soldier should fight? Is that how a _human_ should fight?"_

_There were small echoes of "no" across the ranks._

No, Shirou realized, absently feeling his forehead, he definitely had some kind of fever, though it was probably low-grade. He didn't normally get sick, but the stress from the past week, coupled with his traumatic experience, and the fact that he hadn't slept for a while had probably hurt his immune system a bit. His hands were freezing – he could see blue in his fingertips – but his face was burning up and he was sweating a bit. Shirou wanted to take off his scarf to cool down a bit, but the temperature was nothing to scoff at. For a second, he almost envied all of the soldiers behind and the two knights beside him – their armor might have been ridiculously heavy, but it had to provide some extra warmth.

_"We are nothing like our enemies, no, we are far better and more superior than they are! Within our right hands lay the tool necessary for defeating any foe, and within our bodies do we possess the heart and soul to reach for a grander future! Let the tragedy of these people serve as a lesson for all of us to think more deeply about our positions, consider those who are beneath us physically, mentally, and in ability! Let this serve as a motivation to work harder, move faster, and procure better results! Tell me, who would want a repeat of this cruelty? Would that be you?"_

_The last sentence was belted out with a shout at the men. More men than before raised their weapons high, shouting cries of denial._

Shirou was surprised to see Arturia bring her horse to a stop and turn to look at the soldiers. He heard her shout across the area that they would be resting for the night, and would depart again at dawn. He wiped some of the sweat off his cheek with the back of his right hand and looked up at the sky. Dusk had fallen without him really noticing, so it only made sense that they stop for the night. He watched Arturia and Sir Bedivere move off a ways from the main company of soldiers, while the soldiers themselves grouped up with their friends or close companions. He saw several men gather together piles of dead grass and twigs and dig little holes to make fires.

_"Never again shall such a travesty be repeated. Never again shall we allow the enemy to crush beneath them that which belongs to us. Never again will we ever allow trespassers to venture into our lands. We fight not for ourselves, but for better times, better opportunities, and a better Britain! We take up arms not to hurt, but to protect! Not to maliciously cause pain, but to strategically defend and support! My pride demands that this wrong be righted, that this evil be purged, that this injustice be rectified! Tell me, my brothers-in-arms, do you stand with me?"_

_Cries of agreement traveled through the ranks, all of the soldiers moved by their king's words._

Shirou looked over at the several groups of soldiers, each huddled around their own group fires and starting to eat the provisions they had brought along with them for the trip. He then looked over as the king and Sir Bedivere started their own fire in a position that was neither too near nor far from the regular soldiers. It wasn't as if he could be all buddy-buddy with the soldiers, and there was no way in hell he could lounge around next to the king. He blew some hot air into his hands and rubbed them together quickly as he looked around himself for someplace to start his own fire. Shirou didn't want to sit too far away from the main camp, but it would probably be best if he kept some kind of distance. He plopped down some ways away from everyone and pulled out pieces of grass to pile up.

_"Today, we march back to Camelot with much to ponder: How low does one need to go to ruin the lives and futures of so many? My friends, my brothers, let us stand together in a united front. The path before us is clear – we know precisely what we must do. The pain we feel, we will allow it to chip at our hearts and become fuel for our anger. The shame we have suffered, we will reroute it and force it down our enemies' throats. When they show their cowardly figures, we will ride out to them, with our swords there as a greeting. We will show them what it is to be real men, to be real soldiers and knights. We will show them what chivalry and pride truly are._

_"My brothers, we will push them back to where they came from. We will prove to them we are lions, not mere kittens meant to be stepped on. Today, we have seen cruelty like none other. Let us return the favor, let us prove to them, once and for all, what it means to be a Briton. We will stand side by side with our countrymen. We will hold our heads high and continue forth with pride. Our sharpened steel will engage the enemy and show them what it means to have the pride of a Briton. We _will_ find our foes! We _will_ show them the errors of their ways! We _will_ fight them with all that we have, and my brothers... My brothers, we _will_, emerge, VICTORIOUS!_"

_King Arthur ended her speech with a yell as she raised Excalibur high into the air. The soldiers roared out in agreement, each one moved and empowered by the words of their king. The tension and pressure racing through the troops was enough to make even Shirou want to scream out his own approval and strengthened feelings._

_"Is this what that Charisma rank B meant?" Shirou had questioned softly, enraptured as he stared at the magnificent king._

Shirou clicked together two rocks, frowning when they weren't producing as many sparks as he would have like. Luckily, the ground was fairly dry, and the grass even more so, so it wasn't long before he was able to get a flame started. He blew gently into the flames to increase the heat and then crawled back away from fire. He wasn't feeling well, Shirou realized, coughing slightly into sleeve. There was little wind that night, fortunately, but it was still ridiculously cold. He kind of wished he could project a shed or someplace where the heat would stay trapped, but even if he weren't surrounded by all the people, it probably wasn't a good idea to start using his skills willy-nilly. Plus, he was really wiped.

Shirou shifted around and pulled his backpack close before opening it and rummaging inside. He found the bottle of ibuprofen and opened it up, careful to hide it from the soldiers' views. While Shirou wasn't particularly in pain, the medicine should be able to help relieve his fever a bit, if he even had one. Gulping down a couple of the pills dry, he tossed the bottle back into the pack and sighed.

"Okay, let's go over the last couple of days," he murmured to himself, staring into the fire. "The villages fell under attack by the Saxons, and the militia were able to hold them off for a while, but eventually were pressured too much. I helped fight some and escorted some people, but ending up getting my butt kicked and knocked unconscious. I was called King Arthur because I stupidly tried projecting a sword and doing a Noble Phantasm that should have been far beyond me."

Shirou rubbed the back of his neck. "Maybe the cold's numbing my body so much that I don't feel any pain. Or maybe it's thanks to the fact that I didn't actually try to do the attack in full, not that I would've anyway. Damn, Saber would have killed me if she found out what I'd done. No, first she would have patched me up, then she would have attempted murder, and then she would have yelled at me for another few hours. Yeah, she would have called me an idiot and chastised my recklessness."

Hugging his legs close to his body, he looked over at the main camp, seeing several soldiers sleeping and others either sitting by their fires or walking around, patrolling lightly. A few men would occasionally glance his way, but as no one seemed to show any inclination to come up to him, it didn't really matter. The king herself had invited him to travel with them, after all. Even if they were against the king, none of them were stupid enough to say anything in her presence, and no one seemed to want to put his life on the line just because a foreigner was walking around with them. Speaking of kings, he thought, coughing slightly, – damn, now he was coughing, too? – what was she up to?

Shirou turned to peer over at where she and that knight had been sitting. She was resting on the ground with her back leaning against her horse's side. Considering how her head was bowed, Shirou gathered that she must have been catching up on some rest. Sir Bedivere, on the other hand, was sitting in front of their fire, his eyes focused on its flames. The knight probably had the first watch between the two of them, and it wasn't long before Shirou saw him stand up and begin walking over towards the soldiers who were still awake. Bedivere passed him a single glance, but his expression was so indeterminable that Shirou wasn't sure what to make of it.

So, instead, he looked back over to where King Arthur was. She was as gorgeous as she had always been to him, though quite a bit more hardened in some ways. Perhaps she had been protecting him in some ways, but Shirou couldn't remember her ever barking out orders to him like, well, a king, when she'd been with him. She had been graceful, resourceful, tactically intuitive, amongst other things, but cold and relentless? Not necessarily. Despite her issue with his father, she had been kind to him from the very beginning.

Shirou frowned slightly, cupping his chin as he thought. No, she had indeed been cold and relentless in some ways – he would have never expected a little blonde girl to tell him to kill people as if they were taking a walk through the park. No, he surmised, retracting his previous thought, she was hardly any different than she had been when they first met. The main thing that _was_ different, if anything at all, was probably the pressure.

That was it, Shirou thought, snapping his fingers lightly. True, the very first day he had met Saber, he had been completely unable to react around her, but thinking back on it, that was probably because she wasn't technically human anymore by that time. Her wounds healed as if they had never been there, at least on the outside, she possessed abilities that normal humans shouldn't have, and she was capable of doing things that should have been impossible. That strangeness was what had concerned him about her most, at first. It had left him unable to react properly, and he didn't even want to think back to when he had stupidly thought that she shouldn't fight because she was a girl.

Shirou leaned forward slightly, his eyelids feeling heavier than before. King Arthur, he thought adamantly, making sure to call her that so he wouldn't constantly think of her as the person who had been together with him before, was a different beast entirely in this age. Rather, she exuded a pressure that stunned him. He noticed it when she first appeared in front of him in Tryst, and it had been very difficult to ignore when she gave her speech. It was a pressure that made a person want to bow down without a single word being spoken. It was like it paralyzed his limbs and made him incapable of behaving normally.

However, Shirou also recognized the goodness of the pressure. While it did feel like he could lose his head at any time, there was also this other force within her that he simply couldn't ignore. Something about her simply made him want to believe in her abilities. Even if he hadn't met her at all in the future, he got the feeling that he would follow her to the ends of the earth, if she asked that of him. Shirou couldn't really explain it. It's like, her passion, or maybe her virtuous nature, or whatever it was, grabbed hold of his heart and dragged out whatever courage he may have possessed, and vehemently eradicated his fears and doubts.

There were a number of times where Shirou wondered if he had made the right decision to go with her to Camelot. He was scared, he was empty, and he was hardly a shell of his confident self. This was, since the Holy Grail War, the first time he was left to his own devices to accomplish something of great importance. Before, if he had messed up, Rin was always there to support him through everything. She would dig him out of his messes and pave a new path for him to take. At one point, he had actually asked her why she kept cleaning up after him, and all she had said was,

_"That's a good question. I wouldn't bother if I thought for a single moment that you were capable of standing on your own without somehow reverting back to how you used to be. Do you remember back to before you met Saber? You had a stupid, ridiculous dream, and no way to go about accomplishing it. You were a husk, simply going through the motions of life without actually living at all. You were pathetic, and pissed me off. I mean, you _really_ pissed me off. How can there be anyone stupid enough to not realize how far off the road they're driving?"_

Shirou remembered being confused. Like usual, she had managed to evade his question and insult him at the very same time. On top of that, she made it seem like he was some kind of paradox that shouldn't have been able to exist.

_"Mmph," _he had grunted, crossing his arms over his chest. _"If I'm so bad, then why are you still here? I mean, you make it seem as if I'm incurable."_

Rin had turned away from him and flipped a few pages in her book, eyes downcast as her fingers drifted across pages she wasn't actually reading.

_"Honestly?" _she had asked, head bent down. _"Because I'm more afraid of what would happen to you if I didn't. If you were on your own, would you really be able to take care of yourself? Would you remember that there is a life worth living for, something beyond that ridiculous dream of yours? Would you remember that there are some of us out there that actually give a fucking damn about you?"_

She had whirled around, her beautiful blue eyes glimmering with unshed tears. He had only stood there staring back at her, unsure of what to say. No, there was nothing he could have said, as he hadn't known for himself, both then, and currently. Rin had looked at him for a short moment before turning away slowly and quietly asking him to leave her alone.

He hadn't been able to answer her that day, or come up with an answer anytime thereafter. She hadn't really spoken to him much over the next couple of weeks, except for work- or house-related things. It had relieved him greatly when, on the morning of the third week, she turned around, gave him a whisper of a smile, and said,

_"I'll take my coffee black today, thanks."_

He had been so relieved that she had started to talk to him again that he had skipped the bathroom and immediately worked to fulfill her request. Come to think of it, it had been around that time that Shirou had begun calling her "Rin" instead of "Tohsaka". It hadn't been intentional, but had just happened, as if that was the way it should have been. That had been back during his third year in Britain.

Yes, Shirou realized after musing over his memories, that was the reason he had never once been left to his own devices. As Rin had made apparent, he had a habit of filtering out things that determinedly had no place in his life, whether that be fun, desire, whatever. Rin had always forced him to continue living life as a normal human being should – there was no other choice as far as she was concerned, no other alternative. However, that put Shirou in quite a bind.

Before the Holy Grail War, he had simply existed. It wasn't that he worked to do things on his own, it was that he had had a lack of desire to do anything from the start. He'd had a goal, but only a roundabout way of reaching it. After the war, he had no longer been on his own, but had had Rin to help him every step of the way. It was through her that he had gained the confidence to live as a human being would. His decisions had not solely been his either, as he could discuss them with her at any point. In other words, he had had a type of buffer to prevent him from reverting back to how he was.

Now, though, he only had himself. He had to make his own decisions by himself, like a normal adult, while maintaining his humanity. Shirou was certain he could manage back in the future without Rin. He was certain he could carve his own path. Now, though... Now, he was in the past. Any step he took would be an infringement on history, and he took the risk of changing things that were better left as was. Would it have been better to have worked from the sidelines to ensure King Arthur would be safe? Should he have so readily accepted her offer to join her in Camelot? Should he have tried to accomplish things in the most indirect manner, a route that would slowly and eventually end up being effective somehow in the long run?

Both Saber and Rin had brought out his best, and dragged out his worst. Now, he had to forge his own path. Shirou clutched at his chest as he coughed again, his eyes narrowing while he stared into the fire.

"I've made my decision," he whispered, frowning. "Now I have to follow it through. I kept calling myself a man all those years ago, but it's like I've been walking backwards. I have to weed out all of my concerns and fears before I can move forward again, on my own two feet."

He shifted around and laid down on the hard, cold ground, his arms crossed behind his head. "I failed in Tryst, and I couldn't make good on my promise. Saber... No," he sighed, "King Arthur was right. I am weak. If I'm going to do anything and become something of worth, I've got to move forward, get stronger, and avenge all of them. I can't save everyone I see, but I can work as hard as I can to ensure that there won't be as many victims in the future."

His eyelids fluttered a bit as he tried to stay awake. "I should pick a job that will give me more chances to see her. I've also got a keep my emotions bottled up a bit more. She's Saber, but she isn't. Everything about her is the same, exactly like if she'd never met my old man. She never met me. She doesn't love me like Saber did, even if I love her."

And, that was the crux of everything, wasn't it? She was no longer the person who he had been with for those two weeks, but nothing about her was any different. King Arthur was still the same woman who he loved, and probably always would. Right now, he was worthless to her, but, if by some chance, if at all possible, he had to become worthy of her attention. One day, Shirou would be able to fight once again on the battlefield, after he had gathered all of his courage and rid himself of his fears. Until then, he had to pick a job, and do it well enough to be noticed.

"I'm good at cleaning, but, cooking would probably be far more fun and interesting. I don't know the first thing about horses or gardening or anything."

Suddenly, a flash back to when he had asked Saber about food in her own country swept through his mind. He remembered the expression of abject hatred that appeared on her face as she thought back to the food in her time. Maybe Shirou had been lucky, but he hadn't actually had any disturbingly bad food since coming to the past, save for that bread and meat he'd received from Myrus. Most of the soups Ceri had concocted had been more or less okay to him, although he had been quick to hunt down seasonings in the area around the village. Some things just weren't meant to be eaten without some kind of buffer.

Shirou breathed in a deep breath before letting out a long sigh. The fire felt really nice, but realized he had to flip over to his other side since his right side was freezing. He was also coughing a lot more, but the medicine was probably working a little bit. His body didn't feel nearly as hot as before. Shirou, now laying on his stomach, lifted up droopy eyes to look over at where King Arthur was still sleeping. Bedivere hadn't finished his rounds just yet, but it seemed like he was almost done.

"This ground is really cold," he muttered, his eyes slowly fluttering shut as he finally fell asleep.

* * *

><p>The first thing Shirou noticed as he woke up some time later was that his body was both freezing and burning up. The second thing was that something cool was pressed lightly against his forehead. Or, maybe it was actually warm but he was too hot to tell? His bleary eyes opened slightly enough to see the expanse of the glittering, starry sky above him. Shirou frowned when he heard the sound of clanking nearby, and tried to push himself up. His body didn't want to pay his orders any attention, but he needed to get up. A quick glance at the tinder where his fire had been quickly told him the reason for his being so cold. Shirou forced himself up to a sitting position.<p>

He felt dizzy, but he had to get up to build a new fire. Just as he was about to shift his weight around to push himself up off the ground, he felt everything around him tilt and swirl a bit. Okay, getting up was not a good idea, then.

"That pack..." came a faraway voice. The sound of clanking and clunking was coming closer and the noise was starting to give him a headache.

"Si–... Shall... You?" Shirou was only picking up a few words at that point. Whoever was talking was still too far away.

"No...him myself." Oh, the voices were closer now. He was able to catch the last bit of that sentence.

The clanking came to a stop beside him and Shirou turned his torso a bit to see someone, no, King Arthur, he realized, looking more closely, standing next to him. Her expression was as cool and placid as usual, though the same couldn't be said for the soldier who had accompanied her to his little spot.

"Sire, if I may," the soldier began tentatively, looking uncertain.

"My order stands," came the quick dismissal. "See to it. When you are finished, clear this area of evidence that anyone was here."

Confused, Shirou watched as the soldier bowed and reached to pick up Shirou's backpack. Not understanding what was going on, he weakly waved a hand in the soldier's direction, trying to reach for it.

"Hey, that's mine," he complained, trying to get up before a gentle force pushed him back down.

For a second, Shirou thought they might have considered leaving him behind and thought taking his pack was worth their effort thus far. He pushed off whatever was on his shoulder and tried to crawl to get to the soldier when a hand – he was now certain it was a hand. A hand in armor, but a hand nonetheless – pushed him down again with a little more force.

"Cease your struggles, Shirou," he heard her say.

"But, my backpack..." he argued, frowning slightly as he looked up at her.

He wasn't sure what caused it, but there was a small frown of disapproval on her face as she peered down at him. She let out a small sigh and gestured for the soldier to continue as he was. Shirou sat obediently next to the king as the soldier bowed and carried the backpack away. He looked up at her again like a forlorn child. He wasn't even sure what he was thinking or seeing anymore. He must have been sicker than he'd originally thought.

"Now, come," King Arthur commanded him as she fell to a knee and draped one of his arms across her shoulders.

Wrapping her own arm around his waist, she supported Shirou as he unsteadily rose up onto his own two feet. As soon as he was standing, he tried to pull his arm back and move away from her, but her grip was as solid as steel. He wasn't going anywhere but where she intended to take him. After ensuring that Shirou more or less had his balance, the king slowly walked forward, directing him towards the campfire where Sir Bedivere was now resting. If the king was awake and the knight was asleep, they must have changed rotations already, Shirou realized. He wished he could tell time by the positioning of the sun and stars. These people probably could though – he'd have to ask one of them someday. Even if he could tell time though, it honestly felt like he'd barely slept an hour. He was so exhausted.

The warmth of the fire was incredibly welcome to him as Her Majesty helped him sit down next to it. She pushed him back to rest against her sleeping horse and then went to pick up his bag and set it next to him. Shirou watched her look over at the main camp for a slight moment before she focused her intense gaze on him. He just blinked owlishly as she frowned further. Great. What had he done to deserve her scorn this time?

"Honestly," she let out irritably as soon as she realized he wasn't going to say anything himself. "What else do I find upon awakening but a stubborn man who proceeds to sleep alone in the cold in the middle of December. Never have I come across such stupidity. Is this a regular habit with you, sir? I know you mean to rest, but this must be resolved first."

Oh, man, an argument. He had to focus a bit more to make sure he didn't say the wrong thing.

"What was I supposed to do? Unless you expect me to materialize a nice, big, warm house out of thin air."

His sarcasm didn't escape her, though she did appear to ignore it. "If you could, that would be a blessing indeed."

Ah. She didn't ignore it. She returned it.

"Look," he grumbled, just wanting to rest, "it wasn't as if I could go up to your soldiers and be buddy-buddy with them. I knew how to build a fire, so I just went a little farther away so I wouldn't bother anyone. Besides, you basically said it yourself: I have to learn to do things on my own and make my own path."

"If you were wary of approaching my soldiers, than why did you not simply speak to me or Bedivere? We would have been more than willing to accommodate you, or rather, that is our current duty, until I have fulfilled my promise to you."

Shirou closed his eyes to rest some as he was scolded, but could practically feel her growing angrier. Opening them again and maintaining eye contact with her, he shook his head slightly.

"What normal person could go up to a king and ask something like that?"

"You seemed to have no problem asking me to decide your life for you, and yet you balk at something so obvious and simple?"

Shirou frowned and opened his mouth to rebuke her, but she cut him off.

"Also, while we are on the topic, you spoke of me saying that you should decide your own path. That phrasing I used, I do not think it means what you think it means. What I originally meant was that you should learn to move and think as appropriate to the situation. Do you honestly believe that falling asleep by yourself, near an untended fire, when you are so obviously ill, was appropriate?"

She let out a small "tch" as she turned away from him, scowling. "Although, I recognize this as being partially my fault. I should have realized the stress of the situation would wear on you. You also looked as if you had not slept in a while. Yes, I am also to blame for –"

"That foreigner is getting a right rippin' from the king."

"Serves him right. Why would the king think to pick up a louse like him?"

"That's just part of the His Majesty's charm. You know, paying homage to the poor and weak, taking up strays, and all that. He's benevolent like that."

"I'd just as soon see that guy's head on a platter though. Scot's heads are so big, but I wonder how big the insides are."

"What insides? You mean the cotton?"

As the few soldiers continued mocking him, Shirou cast his gaze at the ground. He wasn't particularly fazed by what they were saying – after all, he had faced much worse when he'd gone to England to study under Rin. Besides, his hair _was_ red, and these people _were_ fighting a war that involved Scotland. It was only obvious that they should be angry that their king took a probable enemy under her wing, even if only for a short while. As long as no one was going to hunt him down, tie him up, and hang him or something, he was fine. Wait, they didn't do hanging much in the sixth century, right? No, they did the guillotine thing, right? No, wait, it was hanging. France did the guillotine thing. Hell, history was not his best subject, truth be told.

To be entirely truthful, though, he didn't care if they jeered at him – he just wanted this discussion with King Arthur to be done so he could sleep. Ah, blissful sleep. Oh, and he probably needed to down another couple of pills to fight the fever. He couldn't let anyone see his medicine though. That was another good reason for being by himself – he didn't have to hide his stuff.

Just as he was ready to stop fighting sleep and close his eyes, he heard the clinking of armor as King Arthur drew up to her full height. Shirou stared up at her and felt like his body had been splashed with freezing, cold water as soon as he saw her expression. No, it wasn't just the expression of absolute anger, – note: she was pretty pissed – it the pressure that was suddenly engulfing the immediate area. Then tension emanating from her was enough for even the joking soldiers to slowly take notice. Had they been enemies, they would have long fallen by her sword by then.

The expression of anger shifted back to calm placidness, her gaze steady as she stared at the awake soldiers.

"How odd. If my memory serves me correctly," she began, her voice level and low, "I do not believe I employed you to make fleeting, irrelevant comments about the guests with whom I convene, or, have I been gravely mistaken all of this time?"

King Arthur did not shout or raise her voice at all. A good two-thirds of the soldiers under her command were still sleeping after all, and she probably wanted to ensure they would have enough energy to start the next stretch of their journey. Shirou swallowed slowly, feeling his body grow even heavier as he stared up at her. Despite never raising her voice, somehow, it seemed to carry just as easily, and loudly, as if she had indeed yelled. The worst part of it all, Shirou realized, had to be her tone. It reeked of suffused iciness, that seemed to drip down stalactites of icicles as the words flowed across the area.

After the king had spoken those few words, there came about a silence and stillness that seemed completely unnatural. It must have been his imagination, since Bedivere never made any move to rise or even open his eyes. Even asking her about possible super attacks that one night so long ago had never incited such ire. Note to self: don't make fun of any guests King Arthur happens to speak to.

She raised her head slightly, with her eyebrows also arching a bit.

"You are staying silent. I will take that to mean that you are indeed soldiers under _my_ command, and as a result, do not have any such freedom as mocking those with whom _I_ seek to speak. Or, perhaps, you feel yourselves fit to intervene on royal business?"

Shirou didn't hear anyone say anything. Actually, he couldn't hear anything but silence.

"Of course," the king continued as her head shifted to the side barely a smidgen, "if you are lacking for entertainment, I am certain there are many things I can find for you to do. Perhaps you would like to scout within ten leagues of our position for our enemies, or participate in more training with me personally? Yes, I suppose some training is long overdue. I will ensure you have no reason to speak idly of matters that do not whatsoever concern yourselves."

Silence continued before a meek voice interrupted it by saying,

"Ah, begging your pardon, Your Majesty. 'Twas all in good fun, you see. Forgive us – we won't say anything more on the matter."

"In fact, we were actually thinking of checking the area ourselves, to make sure no enemies were around to threaten Your Majesty," spoke another cowed voice.

"Forgive us. We will take our leave now," came the last voice.

"Yes, that would be best," King Arthur responded, nodding slightly. "I look forward to the report from all of you."

Whatever sleep Shirou had wanted had taken a seat on the back burner after that exchange. Saber had always been so _nice_ and _kind_ when she was with him. To see her, or rather, King Arthur, in her natural environment and rightful place as king was absolutely terrifying. Actually, she scared the hell out of him, while at the same time, made him impressed beyond belief. She was frightening to a small degree, but the level of respect she commanded, her ability to bring about complete silence out of rough and gruff soldiers like the ones who had made fun of him was incredibly amazing.

_I feel like I'm falling in love all over again_, he thought to himself, still staring up at her, petrified.

Her posture losing some of its tension, she turned her gaze back to look at him, and he froze even more. Gone were the normally cool, yet amiable eyes he had grown accustomed to since meeting her in Tryst, and in their place, orbs as dangerously hard as diamonds and as frostily cold as the arctic. Shirou felt his heart start pounding even harder, but he couldn't be sure it was only out of fear.

She must have noticed his unease, because as soon as she looked away and he saw a muscle in her jaw jump slightly as she gritted her teeth, the pressure weighing him down suddenly dissolved, as if it had never actually been there. He almost felt as if his body had lost some weight, considering how much lighter he was. Then again, as soon as that concern was gone, his exhaustion hit him again full force.

"Shirou."

He compelled his eyes to look back up at her.

"Shirou, I apologize for that interruption. As you appear to be at your limit, allow me to make one last thing clear before I leave you to your rest: you only have one life – there are, and never will be, any repeats. Unless you are very fortunate, or unfortunate, for that matter, there will be no going back to redo what you have already done. I ask that you keep that in mind when you learn to 'stand on your own two feet', so to speak.

"Ensuring that your body is up to par and in good health is the first step to the strength you seek. Rest, and rid yourself of that ridiculous fever so that you may be able to move forward. Well, then," she finished softly, bowing her head, "I leave you to your rest. I will see that you awaken at dawn."

Shirou was sure the irony of her statement would have hit him a bit harder had he had a clear head, but at the moment, he was only barely able to keep his eyes open. He watched through half-open eyes as her skirts swirled as she turned and heard the clanking of her armor as she walked away. Shirou felt around him for his backpack, and as soon as his hand touched the leather, he dragged it closer to him. Not even opening the flap, he stuck his hand into the main pocket, reaching for the hard, plastic bottle. Bringing it out, he uncapped the lid and popped a couple of more pills. As soon as he pushed the bottle back into the bag, Shirou rested his head against the horse behind him.

Readying himself to fall asleep, he suddenly sat up ramrod straight, blinking a few times. Damn it, he had to take a piss. Shirou grunted as he pushed himself onto his knees and then tentatively stood up. As soon as he was up, he felt a wave of dizziness pass through him and he placed his hands on his hips to steady himself a bit. Frowning, Shirou looked up to see the blonde king looking back at him from a few steps away.

"Is there a problem?"

"No," he answered wearily. "I just realized I haven't gone to the bathroom since we left. I'm just going to head over to that bush over there real quick."

King Arthur turned to him fully, her countenance serious. "Ah, yes. My apologies for not even considering that you may have been feeling some discomfort. Then, allow me to escort you."

"It's barely a hundred meters away," he protested, pointing over at one of the many small thickets located a bit of a ways from them. "I'd be able to shout for help if I really needed it."

"It is at times when you least expect danger that you are in the most danger," she rebuked, tilting her head slightly. "Ensuring your safety is part of my duty, and I take my responsibilities quite seriously."

"What, so do you _think_ there are enemies around here?"

"I don't believe so, no," she answered honestly.

"Do you _think_ I'm going to be attacked while I'm over there?"

"The probabilities of that happening are slim to none, so, no, I do not."

"Then I can go by myself, right?"

"I would much prefer that you didn't."

That was a pretty obvious "no" if he'd ever heard one.

She wasn't budging and his bladder was on the verge of bursting. The last time he'd gone to the restroom had been shortly before the entire company had left the burned ashes of Tryst and although he hadn't actually drank or ate anything along the way – oh, he was hungry, too, now that he thought about it – nature still called. Shirou gave her one last glance and after weighing the importance of either using the restroom, with an escort or no, and arguing with her for the sake of just a bit of independence, there was obviously only one answer he could come up with. Shirou just sighed and started walking toward the thicket, with her a few steps behind him.

"Isn't this something one of those guys back there should be doing?" he questioned, genuinely curious as to why a king would be his own personal escort.

"Considering what took place earlier, I wouldn't be surprised if they resorted to violence instead of merely words were I not present," King Arthur answered candidly. "You are still very much an enemy in their eyes, and I am the only reason you still breathe, at the moment."

Well, that was a gruesome thought. So, when she had talked about safety earlier, had she meant security from being killed by actual enemies like the Saxons, or security from being killed by her own people? It made sense in a way – she may have been king, but these were still individual people they were talking about. No matter what any leader did, no one could possibly force someone to stop doing something they so earnestly desired to do. In other words, Shirou was the possible enemy due to his appearance and the soldiers wanted to take care of him. No matter how scary she was – and she had been damned terrifying earlier – if a soldier felt oppressed by a possible enemy sitting near him, it would only be natural to deal with the oppression, even if only to appease oneself.

It was the Holy Grail War all over again – there was just one person, though a very intensely strong one, blocking and shielding him from a whole bunch of people who wanted nothing more than to spill his blood. ...Had he just been born under a dark star or maybe on the night of a new moon to incur so much bad luck in his life? What was it with people always wanting to kill him for some reason?

"Then, I will wait here. Please inform me when you have finished your business."

Oh, they had already gotten there. That was fast. Shirou glanced at her as he passed by her, but her eyes were closed and head slightly bowed as she stood firm. As always, the king's posture was perfectly erect and she was as calm as a trickling brook. He was quickly reminded of when Rin, him, and Saber went to the church together. She had simply waited outside of the gate in much of the same position, her only duty to stand guard until her services proved necessary.

Shirou quickly went into the thicket, did his business, and was wiping his hands on a couple of leaves as he returned to her side. Her eyes opened to look at him, silently questioning if he were done or not. He let the leaves fall to the ground – what he wouldn't do for some antibacterial soap – and looked back at her with a small grin.

"Thanks for waiting."

She merely nodded her head and began walking ahead. Her pace, however, was slow and it was easy enough for Shirou to fall in step with her.

"So..." Shirou began, trying to fill the silence. "What's Camelot like?"

"You will find out within three to four days' time. Could you contain your curiosity until then?"

"Uh, right, sorry," he mumbled, seeing that she wasn't in the mood for small talk. Well, that much should have been obvious – it wasn't like they were friends or anything. Not only that, but who knew if they ever would be able to get as close as Saber and he had been?

When they finally reached the campsite where Bedivere still lay sleeping, the king did not move a muscle away until she was certain that Shirou was settled by the campfire. He let out a long sigh of exhaustion when he sat down in front of the fire. He was still really tired even though the medicine was finally kicking in, but at least his bladder was empty and he was moderately comfortable.

"I will awaken you come dawn," the woman serving as king told him.

He looked up again at her. "Hey, um," he said, catching her attention one last time.

"Um, I know I said this before, but, thank you for bringing me along with you. And, I really do mean 'thank you'. I was pretty unsure after I'd agreed, but, I really think this will be the right path for me. I'll do everything I can to help you in return for everything you're doing for me."

Her green eyes widened almost imperceptibly before she faced him completely. Then, much to his very surprise, King Arthur's facial features relaxed as a small smile graced her face, or what seemed to him like a smile. Shirou felt his heart stop briefly when he saw her expression. It was almost as if their surroundings had disappeared and she had smiled _that_ smile reserved just for him. That was impossible, though, Shirou knew, his heart rate returning to normal. It made absolutely no sense for him to get his hopes up. She was just being nice to him since he had finally resolved to try moving forward. He returned her smile with one of his own as she said,

"I only hope your luck turns for the better once you are situated."

They were kind words. Yeah, she was way better like this as opposed to when she was raging mad. Though, that was fine, too, so long as the anger wasn't directed at him. Watching it was bad enough. He accidentally let loose a small cough, and with that, the moment they shared diffused and her normal, calm expression returned, though she did seem somewhat concerned for him.

"Now, sleep. We have much distance to cover on the morrow."

With that, she was walking away and he was left to his own devices again. Shirou looked down at his fingernails that were a nice shade of blue. He breathed some warm breath on them to get rid of the partial numbness and then scooted a bit closer to the fire. Turning to grab his bag and pull it over for him to rest his head against as he laid down, he sighed as soon as he was horizontal. Still thinking of that beautiful expression she had shown him, the one that wasn't supposed to exist according to the dreams of her past he'd had, Shirou slowly closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he allowed the darkness of sleep to flow around him.

"How odd," a voice to his left spoke, surprising him, and ultimately dragging him out of his near sleep.

Shirou shifted his head around to look at the figure lying down on the ground, his eyes wide.

"Huh?"

Bedivere opened his dark eyes for a moment to meet Shirou's gaze. He looked the auburn-haired man up and down briefly before letting out a sigh.

"You must have been born under a special star."

"Star? What?" Shirou asked perplexedly.

"Never once have I seen the king smile, and so warmly. I must now reconsider my opinion of you," the man said simply before turning over onto his other side and going back to sleep.

Shirou stared at the now sleeping knight, eyes wide with bewilderment.

"What?"

He frowned at the knight before repositioning himself again.

"No," he murmured softly, his eyes slowly closing. "You're wrong on that account..."

His muscles slackened and relaxed as he finally fell asleep under the clear, starry night sky.

* * *

><p>Shirou took in a deep breath as he woke from his slumber some time later, his eyes opening to still see the strip of starry sky covering the expanse over him. Had he only been asleep for a couple of hours? It had seemed like so much longer than that. One thing he could say, though, was that he was feeling way, way, way better. It was almost as if he slept the entirety of like a week within the span of a couple of hours. He stretched his arms out above him as he let out another yawn. The fire in front of him crackled and popped, sharing its warmth for anyone nearby to enjoy. He took in another deep breath of the clear, unpolluted air. He really did feel a lot better.<p>

"You are awake, I see."

His head popped up and he looked to his left to see where the voice had come from. Staring at him through eyes full of suspicion was none other than Sir Bedivere himself – an awake one at that. The knight sighed softly, his eyebrows knitting together with some slight annoyance.

"How fortunate indeed. For a moment, I believed the king's efforts to have been in vain."

"What do you mean?" Shirou said with a slight frown. "I've only been out for a couple of hours."

"Is a 'couple of hours' what they call three full days from whence you came? What, then, would you call a full day?"

"Huh?"

Shirou stared back at Bedivere, not really understanding what he was hearing. Blinking once, then again, he slowly pushed himself up off of the hard ground and took a look around at his surroundings. The geography around him had changed incredibly. Gone were the flat lands with trees a splendor, with the rich, beautiful environment being replaced by an assortment of rolling hills, a scarcity of trees, – though, there will still quite a number to be seen – and an inability to see far into the distance in any one direction. If he were to wager a guess, where Tryst had been was far more similar to the location of London than where he was now.

"Where are we?" he asked, gazing around with archer eyes – his prana reserves were finally back at full. "It's been three days? I've been out for three days?"

"We will soon be back in Devon," Bedivere answered calmly. "Yes, you have been asleep for the entirety of three days, much to my displeasure, to be sure."

Shirou turned back to look at the knight again. "What could that possibly have to do with you?"

"Who was it, pray tell, do you think was forced to lift your unruly carcass for travel each and every single time? Honestly, I agree with the men. We would have been better off leaving you back in the remains of that village, or dumping you somewhere along the way."

The redhead scowled slightly as he sat back down. "Okay. I get it. You don't like me."

"Was it so obvious?" came the retort.

"Fine. Why?"

"Must I entertain you so, stranger? Think for yourself. Since the day you came, the king has bent over backwards just to see that you feel comfortable and safe. What reason would a king have to do that much for a villager unless there was actually some merit or benefit to doing so?" Bedivere ranted – and yes, he was ranting, Shirou realized.

Bedivere gestured in Shirou's direction. "Tell me, boy. What reason is there for the king to so concern himself with the needs of a peasant? Are you a fighter? Perhaps an astute and intelligent scientist? Maybe you can foretell weather and plot map guidelines of time? Might you even be a powerful and wise mage?"

No, he wasn't any of those at all. He used to be able to fight, but that was before he got sent back in time, before he'd turned into a whining sack of nothing. Shirou crossed his arms over his chest, unwilling to admit how pathetic he currently was. To be truthful, Bedivere was pretty much right. There were wasn't much of a reason for a king of England to bother with saving someone like him. Sighing, Shirou simply shook his head to Bedivere's question, with the latter looking none too surprised.

"Yes, I had not believed so, and yet, here we are. I do not despise you for being powerless, for all man is until a certain point. I despise you because you force others to make up for your complacency and weakness. Had you instead refused His Majesty's proposal, I would have thought you brave and courageous. A peasant who had suffered so would choose instead to march his own path without the help of another to encourage him along the way – now, that is someone to be respectful of.

"But you," Bedivere continued, "you did nothing of the sort. You took the king's proffered hand and used it as a means to level yourself, and that is all. Indeed, you did not even simply use His Majesty as a mere stepping stone, but sit dumbly next to him without a care in the world."

Next to him? Shirou turned to his right to see King Arthur resting beside him, having heard not a word of the conversation. The time traveler continued to stare at the young king as the blonde's chest rose and fell in time with her breathing. Across her lap lay none other than the sword of Excalibur, the real and genuine one. She seemed nothing short of defenseless, though he knew that was as far from the truth as possible. Shirou gulped slightly. How had he not noticed that she was _right_ there beside him?

"That's the king," he managed softly.

"Yes, that would be King Arthur," Bedivere agreed dryly. "How wonderful that your eyes do not fail you as much as your ability to function as a normal human being appears to."

Something about Bedivere bothered Shirou, but it wasn't until that comment that he realized what it was, exactly. Bedivere, someone who Shirou had thought of as being a quiet, loyal knight to King Arthur – emphasis on the quiet part – was acting just like a certain Servant that Shirou had hated with all of his being. The sarcasm, the accusations that were right on point, the unwillingness to let him alone after he'd made mistakes, all of these things were exactly what Archer EMIYA had done.

Shirou hadn't even known who the Servant was until the day Rin had made several comments on how similar they had seemed. He wasn't sure when Rin had made the connection – he hadn't exactly been her Servant for that long. However, maybe it had come about years later when Shirou had developed the Kanshou and Bakuya on his own. Then, there were the several connections as far as his Reality Marble and projecting went, and well... It had probably been an easy answer for her to devise.

Ugh, just thinking of the guy ticked him off, and to think that Bedivere was like a living predecessor of him was enough to make Shirou hate his unfortunate luck.

"For some reason," Shirou muttered, "I'd always thought you were kinder, more laidback, and you know, less talkative."

"Your whining offends me," Bedivere retorted, just as softly. "I'll be kinder once you have proven your worth and become something of use to the king."

The Japanese man grunted slightly. The knight had a point there, though Shirou didn't really want to admit it.

"Now that we have approached that particular topic," Bedivere continued, sitting forward somewhat eagerly and yet unenthused at the very same time, "what _do_ you intend to do once we arrive in Camelot?"

"I'll become a chef," Shirou said, having given his future quite a bit of thought. It was one of the only things he could really do at that point.

"I'll wow the entire kingdom with my culinary might." That was sarcasm.

"Chef?" questioned Bedivere. "I am unfamiliar with this term. From 'culinary', however, I assume that to mean you are an expert concerning food and meals. You intend to join the kitchen then."

"Yeah. Just have to run it by the chief, first."

Bedivere merely cupped his chin as he mused over Shirou's words. Shirou knew good and well that the food in the sixth century was terrible – again, he had been lucky in that regard. They also had very little of the foodstuffs he was so used to working with in the future. How could they not have potatoes? That was like the basic of the basics. Those, however, did not come to Britain until further along in the future. No tomatoes, either. That had definitely caused him some distress.

The one thing that did seem to grow aplenty here had to be the spices. Of course, most of them were used as herbal remedies and not as actual cooking spices. While he could find basil and rosemary growing out in the fields, and although he could find peppercorn, prepping it into pepper was a bit of a pain, and took a lot of time. He was lucky that a lot of the spices had been discovered or known about during the reign of the Roman Empire. So, they definitely existed in this time period, it was just hunting them down that took so much of his time.

Then, there was the problem with meat. So, apparently, cooking meat thoroughly was not exactly a thing, or so he had come to understood when Ceri criticized him the first time he'd cooked any. All of the flavor dies when a person cooks the meat too, too much, she had complained. Well, that was true, but he hadn't wanted to deal with E. coli or anything either.

Speaking of E. coli, there was a whole slew of things he had issues with in the past, not all of which including food. Firstly, no baths! He hadn't had a freaking bath in months! Two: no toilet paper. He had to use leaves to wipe his butt. Three: insects! Mites, lice, bedbugs...they were everywhere! He had contracted lice within the first two weeks of being in the stupid time period (after he had finally woken up), and had had to dunk his head into a vat of alcohol for a decent amount of time before the itching would stop, only to replaced by a lot of pain from the alcohol. Four: water! No one drank water, like, ever. He had constantly been fetching water from the nearest stream and boiling it for a fresh supply. Five: boobs. Okay, this wasn't exactly an issue, but bras had been invented with good reason. Seeing boobs bounce around and essentially say hello to him was not the way to maintain his chasteness. Ceri had thought he had seen the devil the first time she had clung to his arm and bounced with glee.

"How long, precisely, have you devoted yourself to the art of food?"

Right, so enough ranting and back to food.

Shirou ran his fingers through his hair as he thought back. Before the finale of the fourth war, he had never cooked a single day in all of his life. He had been about seven-and-a-half-years-old when Kiritsugu had adopted him, and it only took a few months for him to realize that his old man and Taiga were simply not meant to be in the kitchen, or working with anything even remotely sharp. Plus, since Kiritsugu had been gone for so long all the time, Taiga had been the only one around to take care of him, which meant he would have to deal with horrible dishes, like her intending to make tamagoyaki and instead making okonomiyaki over rice. Dishes like that were absolutely and positively disgusting, so he'd had to make his own way through the kitchen.

The first things he had made couldn't have been called, well, food, no matter how you looked at them. Shirou had been content initially to make cup ramen, before he started wanting things that weren't processed at every corner. He had forced Taiga to buy him an assortment of cookbooks – it was around that time that she started popping over at the Emiya house on an almost daily occurrence. Let's see, then he had finally learned to make the simplest dishes possible, like nikujyaga and sukiyaki. So, that had finally happened when he was eight, give or take a few months. In other words...

"I guess it's been about sixteen years or so," Shirou murmured, still thinking back. "Yeah, give or take a few months here and there, about sixteen years, since I started when I was around eight-years-old."

Bedivere looked pleasantly surprised. It was the first time that a genuine smile had crossed his face. "I had merely thought you to be a beggar, but even you have something in which you take such pride. That is good, very good. Rather, having you in the kitchen would be a delight, I'm certain."

Shirou frowned a bit. Sure, it might have been a delight if he had even a fraction of the food choices that were available for him to use in the future. All of the key components to Japanese dishes were, obviously, inexplicably unavailable to him, and although he had studied some about European food, he had been more intrigued with the French and Italian dishes as opposed to English dishes. There was nothing wrong with the English dishes – they were delicious enough as they were, but that had been more Rin's territory than his. She also made a mean chow mein once she had discovered the right way to make Chinese food. That had normally been Sakura's forte, but hey, sisters were sisters, right?

In any case, unless someone was willing to hook him up with a supply route, then Japanese food was just not going to happen. He could do something with fish – there was plenty of that in this time period. Plus, Camelot was only like a couple of days travel away from the ocean or so, if his memory served him correctly. The map he'd looked at that supposedly charted Arthurian places was somewhat bogus, if Shirou was to be honest. If he had fish, and access to a bunch of vegetables, and various meats and stuff, then he could probably come up with some decent dishes. They weren't going to be amazing, but they'd be better than anything this time period had ever seen.

"I'm not a beggar," he stated grudgingly. "I guarantee I can out-cook anyone you put me up against. I am the best damn cook you will have ever met."

That was more than likely a fact, and not simply bravado. After all, these people didn't know how to cook – there was no way Shirou could possibly lose in any cooking contests. He hadn't fallen _that_ far from who he'd originally been in the future.

"A challenge if I have ever heard one!" Bedivere claimed, looking eager. "Well, then, I would like to think a demolition might be in order."

A demo? Well, Shirou _was_ hungry, as he hadn't eaten or drank anything in well over three days. Of course, thanks to that, he had no need to go to the restroom. Silver lining where it counted, he guessed.

"Uh, sure, I guess," Shirou said with some hesitation. "I don't exactly have any food with me, though."

Bedivere was only too happy to spin around and dig into one of the several pouches hanging from the saddle on his resting horse. He looked into it, nodded, untied the satchel from the horse, and then tossed the entire thing over at Shirou. The latter caught it, and raised an eyebrow when he felt something squishy. Opening the bag, Shirou was blasted with a smell of death – whatever was in the bag reeked, horribly. Shirou had smelled worse, sure, but he hadn't been prepared for it this time around.

Setting the bag on the ground, Shirou used the light of the fire to peek inside. It was a couple of legs of something on the smaller side – he was going to guess a rabbit. That was encouraging actually. Rabbits were rather tasteless and dry on their own, but with some seasoning or soup, they would naturally absorb the flavors they were bathed in. Unfortunately, Shirou wouldn't have time, and didn't have the ingredients for that matter, to make a broth or cook it with any vegetables. He had to use the materials he had on hand.

Ignoring the foul stench, Shirou pulled his pack closer to him, opened it up and looked inside. Luckily, he had all of the spices that he'd taken from before the battle in Tryst, and even some churned butter and whipped eggs. It was cold enough that both were still in good condition, although it would be far better if he chose to use them now. He had his basil, some pepper, a decent amount of salt, and some lard taken from a number of wild animals. There was also some honey left, but he wasn't really in the mood for a sweet base.

Hm, he could use the eggs and butter as a simple base, which meant he wouldn't actually need the lard unless he wanted make some fried rabbit legs. Realistically speaking, the fried legs would probably last him and Bedivere for a longer period of time than simply broiling or grilling them. It was also way unhealthier, but this wasn't the time for considering stuff like that. The main problem was that he didn't want to use all of the eggs for just two little, rabbit legs. If they had some other type of meat to work with as well, that would balance the ingredients just a bit better.

"Do you have anything else I can work with, too?" Shirou asked. "Like, some more meat? Two rabbit legs might not be enough."

Bedivere seemed somewhat disappointed. "That is all I have on my person. Perhaps the king..."

Right, the king, who was calmly and blissfully sleeping next to him. Shirou took a chance glance at the aforementioned person, only to find the blonde awake with a slightly disgruntled expression. What? Why was she upset this time? He hadn't done anything wrong for once.

"What is that foul smell?" she muttered, her torso rising as she sought out the virulent odor.

"Dead rabbit, Sire," Bedivere said simply, and King Arthur grimaced slightly. "This boy means to cook it."

She turned her annoyed gaze over to Shirou, who backed away slightly unconsciously. "You are familiar with cooking?"

"Yeah," Shirou started, before wincing as he corrected himself. "I mean, yes. I was going to cook this, but the thing is, it may not be enough to hold the both of us for very long, plus I don't want to waste any of my ingredients."

"Yes, wasting would not be a satisfactory course to take," the king agreed, still rather groggy and out of it. "Perhaps I can be of service."

She reached behind her blindly for another much larger pouch. Unhooking it from the saddle, she held it out for Shirou to accept. When he gingerly took it, King Arthur sighed again softly and rested back against her horse again. Shirou frowned a bit – she was obviously dead tired, and, if the grumble of her stomach was any indication, also quite hungry. Oh man, he wasn't just dealing with an exhausted king, but a hungry one, as well. Scary thought. Waking her up with noxious fumes from the get-go probably hadn't been a good idea either.

"Splendid," Bedivere said excitedly. "There is now enough meat for you to work with, is there not? You are ready to cook, yes?"

Well, no. He needed something to cook _with_, though that would be more difficult to track down. First, he needed a knife, but he could technically tear apart what had apparently been two full rabbits within King Arthur's pouch. Did people in this time period just carry around dead carcasses just because?

So, knife aside, Shirou still needed some kind of large pot to fry the stuff with. He also needed a relatively small bowl for dipping purposes, and then utensils to eat the crap with. Of course, if he had just the small bowl, then he could make do somehow. Tongs would've been nice, but those didn't exactly exist where they currently were. A couple of knives would've made up for that. Anyway, first and foremost, a bowl. They didn't have plates back then, sure, but what about bowls?

"Do you have any bowls?" Shirou asked, wary of the answer.

"Bowls?" Bedivere inquired. "What do you mean by this?"

King Arthur, surprisingly, was the one to answer. "A container, Bedivere," she stated, eyes still closed. "A container with which to hold soup, or something of the like."

"It is but a small one," the knight said, "but might this do?"

Bedivere pulled off one of the crude, metal things attached to his horse's saddle. Shirou took it in his hands. It was about the size of a small soup pan, and fairly convenient. He wouldn't be able to fry everything at once, but it would have to do. It really was rather simple, but it wasn't as if he had expected anything really detailed. Shirou rolled the bowl in his hands before placing it down on the grass. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to start projecting in front of the king, and any and all people who had known of his magecraft were long since dead. Again, silver lining and all of that.

Grimacing slightly, Shirou reached into Bedivere's pouch and pulled out one of the legs. It hadn't been skinned just yet, so he would have to work on that first. He glanced over at Bedivere, and made a cutting motion with his hand. Luckily, the knight was quick on the uptake and immediately produced a dagger for Shirou to use. The cook took it and made a tentative slice through the rabbit skin. The skin came apart like sliced butter, causing Shirou to grin a bit. It was nice and sharp. That was good.

It was simple work skinning the two legs and both of the full rabbits. Shirou didn't even realize he had an audience of more than just the two knights next to him as he tossed in pieces of the rabbit onto the ground. He wiped his hands on the grass around him to clean them up a bit – some alcohol would've worked better, but he wasn't really complaining. Next came out the butter, eggs, and lard. Shirou dumped about three-fourths of the container of butter, both of the whipped eggs, and a good majority of the lard into the bowl, and started mixing them up together with his hands. A wooden spoon would've been nice, but that obviously wasn't happening either.

King Arthur, Bedivere, and some curious soldiers who had heard Bedivere's voice full of eagerness watched with heavy interest as Shirou reached back into his pack for some of his seasonings. Out came the pepper, salt, and basil, each one filtering into the pot without hesitation. When satisfied, Shirou then tossed the seasonings, the remainder of the butter, and the lard back into his backpack.

Now, came the tough part, Shirou realized as he glared at the large fire as if it were his enemy. He needed to bring the contents to a heavy boil, but he didn't exactly have the instruments to do so. There wasn't a ladle on the bowl, so he was going to have to be careful about how he did this. There wasn't a cooking spit to be found either, so, he'd instead have to use a couple of knives to carefully hold the bowl over the fire. He also needed another knife for turning the rabbit around.

He turned to look at Bedivere, who met his glance readily. "Yes, is there something more you needed?"

His readiness to help Shirou completely surprised the latter. Only half an hour before, the man had been ready to cut his throat, and yet now, he seemed nothing short of keen to be of service. Shirou exhaled slightly, eyes wide as he stared back at Bedivere.

"I need another couple of knives, if you've got them. I also need someone capable of holding the pot after it starts boiling so I can fry up the meat."

A soldier from behind Shirou raised his hand up high as he proclaimed, "I would be more than honored to take part in this practice!"

Another soldier, too, much to the surprise of Shirou, Bedivere, and King Arthur, also exclaimed, "I, too, would like to be of service, if I may!"

Both soldiers relinquished to Shirou their own personal daggers, and Shirou took them hesitantly, his eyes never leaving their faces. Uh, what was going on? Why were there so many people watching what he was doing?

King Arthur must have sensed his distress. "This manner of cooking is unknown to us, Shirou. It is but a matter of course that so many would be intrigued by your display of cooking proficiency."

He wasn't exactly proficient unless the stuff tasted good, but who could say with rabbit? Wolf meat, or some other animal, like some kind of bird, would've been much better to work with. The thing that was really bothering him though, was that everyone was looking at him like he was in charge. Wouldn't that be the blonde next to him?

"Why do you hesitate, Shirou?" the king asked. "My soldiers await your commands."

"Uh," Shirou started, looking back at the interested soldiers. "Is it really my call to order them around?"

"Who else if not you? No one here is particularly astute with cooking, and it does seem to fall into your line of expertise. My soldiers are at your beck and call."

No one had even tried anything yet, but they were so eager to say he was an expert? Well, he knew he could manage something, but, weren't their expectations just a bit too high? What the hell did these people eat to make him mixing together ingredients appear so entertaining?

"Uh, okay," Shirou said, just accepting that he was apparently in charge. "So, you," he said, pointing at one soldier, "hold both of these knives to the bowl as hard as you can, and make sure it stays level over the fire. Make sure not to get too close to the fire, or your armor will burn you from the outside in."

The other soldiers seemed a bit put out when he didn't assign them anything to do. He didn't have enough ingredients to feed all of them anyway, so he hoped that wouldn't be a problem.

As soon as the soldier gingerly held up the bowl over the fire steadily, – his arm strength was really good. Shirou shouldn't have been surprised – Shirou began rubbing blades of grass over the skinned rabbit. The grass would add a small touch of sweetness, but not overload it as much as honey would. It was also the only green thing around, and would have to do for the moment.

No one seemed to question him at all as he worked and he was granted sweet silence. It was somewhat awkward that everyone kept staring at everything he did, but that was just as well. Better that they stare than glare with animosity. Just like that, fifteen minutes had passed by without any trouble, and Shirou rose up to his feet.

"Are you doing okay? Do you need to trade out with anyone?"

"No, sir!" the soldier barked out in response, his eyes focused. "I am perfectly fine and prepared to hold this for four more hours, should that be necessary. Even more, if it were requested of me!"

Yeah, hopefully it wouldn't take Shirou four hours just to fry up some meat. If so, he may as well have given up before even making the attempt.

Shirou reached down to pick up some pieces of meat and tossed them into the bowl. Everyone could hear sizzling almost as soon as the contents had swallowed the pieces of meat. Still seeing some room left in the batter, Shirou tossed in a couple of more legs and shifted each one around a bit with Bedivere's dagger. Each leg wouldn't take more than five minutes to cook, but now he had a different issue. How were any of them supposed to eat it? He looked at his lone knife and frowned. He was going to need a few more knives. That, or if they had some more bowls... Nah, knives were easier.

He turned back to face the soldiers, feeling a lot calmer now. Shirou was finally in his element now, and nothing could really throw him off of his groove now. He gestured towards one of the fifty soldiers – how were there suddenly fifty of them surrounding the knights' corner? – and asked for another few knives. Within moments, ten knives with their handles turned towards him appeared without hesitation. It would've been intimidating had he been doing anything other than cooking.

Shirou took three of the knives and held them in his left hand as he stirred the pot. Stabbing one particular piece, he pulled it out to see its condition before letting it fall back into the pot. It would need another five to eight minutes or so. It had already been five minutes since he'd first let them start frying.

"Shirou."

The redhead looked back down at the blonde king as she glanced up at him. "Uh, yes?"

"While you wait for the food to finish cooking, I would like to inquire as to whether you are feeling all right."

Shirou frowned. That's right, this is the first time she had seen him up and ready to go for three days. A glance from Bedivere and Shirou immediately knew what the knight had wanted to say: _I told you so_.

"I'm great," Shirou responded calmly, again checking the meat. "I feel way better. You're the reason I'm doing so well, right? You carried me on your horse, right? I'm really thankful."

"That is good to hear."

She'd sounded relieved, but he couldn't tell because he now knew that the rabbit was fried up and ready to be eaten. All four pieces were ready to go, actually. Shirou picked up one piece with one knife and then used a different one to cut it open and check the inside. It was a nice white color on the inside, perfectly cooked. He held the knife up with the rabbit leg dripping hot grease down onto the grass. Turning to the king, he was about to hand it to her when Bedivere asked him to wait.

"Is it not customary that the cook first taste his meal before the guests?" Bedivere asked, looking at the leg with a bit of suspicion. "How can we be sure all of what you put in was fit for consumption?"

Murmurs erupted in the audience of soldiers and King Arthur merely tilted her head, neither supporting nor denying Bedivere's inquiries. Shirou blinked a bit and then looked down at the rabbit leg. They'd seen every single thing he had done, but it was true that he hadn't exactly explained the process to anyone. For all these soldiers and knights knew, he may well have added some poisoning. Come to think of it, taste testers were big at that point, right? It wasn't like they had technology to automatically pick up on poisonous traces, and this _was_ the king he'd been about to give food to. It was only obvious that everyone should be so wary, even if they were curious about the entire process. Well, whatever. He had no problem eating it.

Shirou took a large bite from the rabbit, and found it wonderfully crunchy, though a little bit too bland. He nearly smacked his head as he chewed, only remembering right then and there that the butter he used here in the past was not imbued with salt, and so he should've added more salt to flavor it up a bit. Well, it was considerably better than if the rabbit had just been flame-broiled or something. Shirou took another bite as he used the other knives to take out the remaining legs.

Handing one knife to King Arthur first, who just looked down at it with an eyebrow raised, and then one to Bedivere, he wondered what to do about the fourth piece. Spotting another metal bowl attached to the king's saddle, he asked if he could borrow hers to stick the rest of the cooked food in. She obliged him, albeit slowly, as she continued staring at her piece of rabbit. Bedivere looked closely at Shirou, but as he showed no obvious signs of collapsing due to poison, and considering the king obviously wanted to eat her portion, he tentatively took a bite.

"This is fantastic!" he exclaimed, surprising himself. "I have never once tasted a food as wonderful as this. Surely if there is poison, it must be something that only brings out the best flavor of the meat!"

There were a series of "oohs" and "ahs" from the crowd. Was this really a campsite or some kind of food game show?

It was just fried rabbit, Shirou thought, finishing his piece quickly before throwing in more uncooked meat. Not only that, but it was just bland, fried rabbit. He would've preferred to sprinkle some more salt on the cooked pieces, but he was running out as it was. Besides, if a badly fried rabbit piece was all it took to make a knight like Bedivere happy, then Saber really hadn't been joking when she said that the food was crap. She was hardly one to tell jokes in the first place, but Shirou simply couldn't imagine something tasting _that_ bad, unless they were eating it raw, or something.

The king did not say a word as she ate her piece, not a single one. Shirou only saw the barest of nods that indicated her appreciation for the taste. Well, he hadn't expected her to jump for joy or anything – she, rather, Saber had never done anything of the sort. Well, as long as she wasn't grimacing or glaring at him for cooking something terrible, then Shirou guessed that it wasn't all bad.

_Now, what do I do about them?_

Shirou turned back to look at the crowd behind him, with several of the soldiers drooling a bit as they looked at the cooking meat. The one holding the bowl seemed to be staring at the boiling pot the most as he licked his lips slightly every now and then. Crossing his arms over his chest, he didn't know what to say. He wanted to give them food, but it wasn't exactly his to give. He was also still really hungry, but the soldiers looked so pathetic that he really wanted to let them try it. If nothing else, letting them have a bite might improve his relations with everyone. No one seemed to care that he was a supposed enemy now that food was on the table, and Shirou would've much preferred they kept thinking of him as harmless.

He bent down to be face to face with the king and she looked away from the forlorn rabbit bone to make eye contact with him.

"Um, so, about the rest of the rabbit meat..."

Her solders' antics had not gone unnoticed by her either, apparently. Eyes closing, she turned her head away and said,

"All those desiring an opportunity to taste this food are to line up in their particular groups. As there is not enough food to feed every individual, it is unfortunate, but you will need to share each piece. Only those present may partake in this meal. Do not even think to wake anyone else, and do not let it be known that you were given this opportunity. Might I suggest you show your gratefulness for this man's, and my, charity."

The soldiers were quick to dash back to their own group campfires, with one representative from each group coming up holding a metal bowl. The soldier who had been holding onto the main boiling bowl seemed nervous, and Shirou spared him a grin.

"Don't worry. I'll make sure there's enough left for you to have your own piece."

Both the eyebrows of Bedivere and King Arthur raised, though neither said anything. The soldier in question seemed taken aback, enough so that the bowl teetered a bit in his hands. Shirou continued to smile at him though, and checked the pieces of meat every now and then. They were cooking faster now that the heat had stabilized, and another plus was that Shirou couldn't even feel the cold as much anymore. His focus had been shifted entirely to cooking, so he didn't really take notice of the nearly below freezing temperatures.

For the next couple of hours after Shirou had finished cooking everything and cleaned both Bedivere and King Arthur's bowls to the best of his ability – water would've been nice, as cleaning with straight up whisky had probably been a bad idea – found the redhead sighing as he looked back up at the starry sky. The men had loved the rabbit – they were so easy to please – and apparently, their opinion of Shirou actually went up a few notches. Most of them actually thanked him with happy expressions, although most of them hadn't been able to eat more than a couple of bites total, due to sharing amongst their group.

Bedivere had long since retired for the night, probably as much as an hour before. He did make sure to tell Shirou that his outlook over the time traveler had indeed changed, slightly. What was that saying again? "The way to a man's heart was through his stomach"? That was probably the only thing going for Shirou right now, and at least King Arthur didn't have to pull another one of her ice-cold moments to get the men to leave him alone anymore. Well, at least not those fifty.

He was tired again, but in a good way, this time. After handling that raw meat, he had really wanted to wash his hands thoroughly, but the best he'd been able to work with was the alcohol. Luckily, he hadn't had any cuts or wounds on his hands to make it a painful experience.

Now, though, the only thing he was doing was staring up at the sky as he sat in front of the fire. The king next to him seemed to have fallen back to sleep, or, at least she appeared to be asleep. Her eyes were closed and her head was down, so he wasn't sure, but probably? Her serene expression also made his heart skip a few beats, but it was nice seeing her like this. There was no pressure, and it was almost like they were normal comrades again. Shirou smiled again slightly without mirth. As if that was actually possible.

"You displayed yourself well, Shirou."

He jumped. He couldn't help it. Shirou had completely thought that she was dead asleep, but the second she spoke, she had scared him out of his thoughts. He calmed his breathing quickly and looked back at her.

"Huh?" That, quite possibly, had to have been the most unintelligible comments that he could have come up with. "Uh, sorry. I just...sorry. I thought you were asleep."

She opened her eyes to look at him directly. "Just with that one feat, you have managed to not only obtain their good faith, but establish yourself as something more useful than a simple peasant. To that, I give you my commendation."

"Huh? Oh, no," Shirou said, stuttering a bit. "I feel bad that I couldn't do anything else, you know, like something bigger. Or, I mean, something."

He wasn't making any sense, though King Arthur seemed to ignore his rambling. She shook her head slightly with a frown.

"You have done precisely what appeared to be within your ability to do. In any case, what could be more important than feeding good food to those incapable of feeding themselves such?"

"No, I mean, I'm not... I can't fight like you guys can." Well, at one point, he'd been able to, up to a point, but now he had to find himself all over again. He had lost something back in that skirmish against the Saxons, and now he had to figure out precisely what it had been.

"Is the ability to fight what you believe makes someone important?" she asked. "It is not. The ability to hone your technique, whatever it may be, in a fashion that will suit you and be beneficial to others is what gives you worth. For me, yes, holding a sword and fighting for the sake of my kingdom is what gives me my worth. There is nothing else for me, and nothing else I know how, or better, to do. That is both my destiny, and my fate. I have spent years perfecting my skill as a warrior, and it would do no one any good for me to fail at my one trade.

"However," she continued, making sure that Shirou was listening, "that is not the same for you, is it? If you were a warrior, that would be all you would think about, is it not? If you are a cook, then you would consider food and its preparation techniques the most – they would fill your mind and leave you without a means to doubt anything concerning it. If you are a fighter, then you will work to strengthen yourself in a way that will benefit you most. If you are a pacifist, you will strive to ensure no wrongdoings ever take place. Whatever you choose to become though, holds worth. Above all, you, as a person, have worth."

Shirou took her words to thought as he looked down at his hands. "What if I don't want to be just a cook?"

"Then," she started, rising to her feet, "I would suggest that you start training yourself into that which you would like to become. You are the only one who can forge the path in front of you after all. I said this before, but being independent demands that you learn how to act and move when appropriate."

Her features relaxed slightly as she looked down at him. "Asking for help every once in a while does not make you weak, Shirou. It only shows your determination to become stronger. If you need that help, be certain to ask for it, such as asking to sit next to a king and his knight for warmth so that you do not perish to the cold overnight."

Ah hah, she was still mad about that. Shirou looked away quickly, uncertain of what to say. Her point had been made and was fairly clear. In other words, he wasn't alone on his journey, but he had to be the one to execute every single action. Well, that only made sense. Who else was going to make him stronger if not he, himself? He didn't have Rin to rely on, but that didn't mean he couldn't simply use whatever was available to him. Shirou looked up again as King Arthur walked away, thanking her silently for her advice.

Shirou clenched his fists tightly. He had a lot of work to do.

* * *

><p>It had taken them hardly more than half a day afterwards to finally reach Camelot. Now, Shirou had thought it an incredibly impressive sight the moment he had seen the castle in the distance. After all, this was <em>the<em> legendary castle of Camelot, _the _castle of King Arthur, and right now, he was legitimately walking, sometimes jogging, next to _the_ King Arthur. Of course, he had been well aware of who she was, but even if he had met her before, seeing the castle that had been erected for her rule was another story entirely. It was incredible to believe the place had actually existed, but for there to be no traces in the future, the Saxons must have done a real number on it.

As Shirou walked along the wide main street leading from the main gates of the outer garrison wall, he took time to take in the magnitude of the town – no, city was probably more accurate. For all the men, women, and children who weren't taking the time to point and stare at him, or reveling in the majesty of their king, there were several hundred more bustling about doing whatever work necessary for the city to function. Shirou wasn't sure, but the entirety of Camelot had to have been at least a good five to six kilometers around in circumference alone. It was widespread, and just full of unbelievable energy. It made him realize the vast difference between it and Tryst – there was simply no comparison.

The gates of the castle itself towered above him as he walked through with everyone else. He continued staring at the humongous castle, his mouth gaping open slightly even as King Arthur and Bedivere dismounted from their horses and the soldiers dispersed – more than likely to rest or get some food to fill them. Shirou looked left at the expanse of land – the training fields, barracks, archery range, smithery, and other military-related stuff seemed to be over that way. To the right and furthest from the main castle itself were a few housing units, probably for the main staff for those who worked outside to sleep in. Nearest to the castle on the right, however, were the gardens, and some kind of place for a possible outside event. On the left nearest to the castle was the place where they probably ran the executions.

Frowning, Shirou looked at the execution stand with a bit of presentiment. Seeing it with his own eyes was more than enough to convince him that execution by hanging, and, Shirou grudgingly admitted when he saw the platform next to it, by beheading, was a thing here. Then again, in a way, it was hardly any better to hang or behead someone than it was to stick in a lethal injection. He turned away from the sight and focused again on the large castle itself. Something about the building gave him hope, even though it was just a building. It might have been because it was _her_ building that he felt as much.

Shirou made sure to stay out the way as several people came out to talk to the king. A brunet-haired man in armor and beautiful, petite brunette woman stood next Bedivere and King Arthur, with the man's expressions varying widely as he spoke with both of them. He kept taking peeks at Shirou every now and then, much to the latter's disconcertment, and flailing his arms wildly. Shirou just turned his gaze away after a while – it was weird having someone constantly look at him like that.

He heard some clanking heading straight for him and he looked back up to see the brunet suddenly right in his face. Backing away, Shirou stared back with wide eyes, unsure of what to make of the situation.

"Is it true that you made a wonderful feast for His Majesty and Bedivere?" the brunet eagerly asked.

Just who _was_ this guy?

Shirou noticed King Arthur, Bedivere, and the gorgeous woman coming their way, but was forced to back up again as the man came even closer to him.

"Is it, is it?" the man continued to ask excitedly. "Please do say it is so, and that Bedivere is not merely jesting with me as per usual!"

"Uh...I wouldn't call it a feast but I did –"

"By the God in Heaven above, I knew it!" the man exclaimed. "I said to myself, I said, 'By golly, now _that_ is a man who knows his way around a kitchen! A warrior of food! A master of that which is meant to fuel and empower man! A true saint!"

The brunet posed with his right index finger pointed to the sky, his left hand firmly placed on his hip as he made a fierce expression. Shirou had met some odd people in his life, but this guy had to take the cake. He looked up and down at the brunet, taking special note of the armor that was so similar to Bedivere's. Was he a knight too? Was he a knight of the Round Table? Shirou was slightly hesitant to believe as much, though.

King Arthur and her company reached the two of them and she raised an eyebrow at the brunet, not even seeming to be fazed by his antics. Shirou shifted to his left a bit to try and hide behind her when the brunet clapped him on the shoulders.

"SIR!" the brunet shouted.

"YES?" Shirou shouted in return, really wishing he could run away instead.

"Might you do me the honor of marriage? I certainly love a man who can cook and –"

Bedivere slammed a fist into the back of the brunet's head, his own expression annoyed. The brunet grasped at the back of his head, looking at the other man and whining pitifully.

"Bedivere, you cruel beast! How could you hurt me in such a manner?" the brunet complained, before his eyes sharpened and his entire countenance seemed to darken and grow fierce. "I'll kill you, you bastard."

"I have a father who loves me," Bedivere replied simply, clapping a hand on the brunet's shoulder and shoving him away. "Besides, this peasant isn't someone here to become your friend. His Majesty saved him from a terrible plight and has allowed him protection here within these walls."

Was this a convent now?

The brunet frowned, obviously not pleased with how Bedivere had worded his comment. His dark sapphire-blue eyes turned to look at the blond king, his arms folded.

"King Arthur, I will not stand for this. I wish to become friends with this man. He is a man after my own heart, with the ability to make scrumptious, wonderful food meant for actual consumption. Quite unlike that slop your wonderful, brilliant, mess up of a cook named Baeddan makes in that castle. Do you fault me for this, Lord?"

The king looked as if she wanted to be anywhere that wasn't where she currently was at that moment. She glanced at Shirou briefly with an expression that he could only describe as contrite. The brunet walked a step closer to her, though she didn't bother moving whatsoever herself. He put his face right into hers and she completely took it in stride. Shirou gawked at the two before looking over at Bedivere and the woman accompanying them. Neither person seemed surprised in the slightest. The man leaned in even closer, enough so that there was hardly even a couple of centimeters in between the two of them.

"Unless you intend to kiss me, I would ask that you back away," deadpanned the king.

Was she being _sarcastic_?

The brunet blinked once before grinning. "Oh, can I? Can't let the queen have all the fun all of the time."

He'd actually _planned_ to kiss her?

Shirou's eyes widened further. Who the hell was this guy, and how was he so freaking gutsy? To a king, nonetheless?

King Arthur gently shoved the brunet away out of her personal space as he leaned in with pursed lips and cleared her throat. Turning to Shirou again, she seemed slightly remorseful still as she said,

"I'm afraid Percival has taken a liking to you. Please do not become too irritated, and be certain to feed him treats every now and then."

"I'm not a dog!" came an indignant shout.

"Quiet, mutt," quipped Bedivere, an evil grin on his face.

"Fuck you, bastard!"

"I have a father who loves me. We've been over this."

Him? _This_ guy was Sir Percival, one known for his ferocity and natural prowess in battle? The man in front of him who was currently having a spat with his fellow knight, Sir Bedivere, was _the_ Sir Percival? In a way, somehow, Shirou felt cheated. The myths and legends had played him as a fool, but...

"He is no fool, mind you," spoke up King Arthur from beside him. Could she read thoughts now, too?

"He simply does well playing the part," she finished, with a slight nod. "And now, I leave him to you."

"What?" Shirou managed out. "To me? What? Isn't he your knight? What do you mean?"

"Of course he's my knight," she said, frowning slightly. "But, he likes you, so it would seem. That, and you need someone to show you the way to the kitchens. I have other business to attend to now that I have finally returned, and will leave it to him to be your guide. Until we meet again."

Shirou watched her walk away and saw the woman that had been with her take the king's arm as they walked back towards the castle. Wait, he thought, looking over at the still feuding pair, had she just dumped her baggage on him? Percival cast him a grin, and walked away from a frowning Bedivere to wrap an arm around Shirou's shoulders.

"Hey there, mate. So, how about I give you a nice, little tour, eh?"

"Uh..."

Honestly, he just wanted to have a place to settle in. He was tired, and all of the commotion wasn't helping any. Percival frowned slightly, both eyebrows raising as he looked at Shirou's condition. The brunet made a show of sighing before detaching himself from Shirou and crossing his arms over his chest.

"You look exhausted," the man said calmly, all games and mischief apparently over and done with. "I'll show you to where you get to sleep for the night and then we can take the grand tour tomorrow."

Shirou looked at Percival directly, unsure of what to think. "Sir Percival, are you –"

"Just Percival, mate," the knight said a small smile. "I'm not a fuddy-duddy like the king, or some kind of crazy madman like Bedivere. We're both men, no need to consider status all the time. I like who I like and kill those who I hate, or who His Majesty hates, at least. It's simpler that way."

"Okay. So, Percival, are you sure you have the time to do something like that? I mean, I can find my own way around."

"Have you looked around you?" the brunet asked rhetorically, gesturing at the grounds. "I guarantee you'll be lost within the hour."

"All right, if you're sure, then thanks."

Percival grinned toothily at him. "Oh, no problem, mate. Now...about this rabbit I heard you cooked..."

Shirou chuckled a bit.

* * *

><p>So, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I loved writing Percival and Bedivere, and of course, our dear King Arthur. Let me know how you guys feel.<p>

Make sure to take the poll! And, I would still like to have a beta-reader!


	6. Chapter 6

Okay, so here is Chapter 6. It stands around 16.5k words as is. As it's basically mid-December already, I'm going to close the poll that I have up on my profile. The winning votes stand at 10-15k words, so I will try to maintain that quota with each chapter.

As always, I very much appreciate the reviews and criticism everyone gives me, and it helps me to become a better author overall. So, keep doing what you're doing, and stuff.

Lastly, be sure to check my profile every so often. I leave snippets of the upcoming chapter for your enjoyment, and to give you a look into what's going to happen next. I also had to cut this chapter a little short, because the next scene I envisioned would have expanded this chapter by approximately 10k words or so. So...expect that in the next installment, I suppose. I'm also still looking for a beta reader. :)

* * *

><p>The room that Percival had taken him to was actually Percival's own, as Shirou wasn't technically part of the cooking staff yet. Percival had also wanted to make sure Shirou was in a place where he would easily be found again, someplace where "that fool Baeddan" wouldn't be able to get his "greasy" hands on him. Shirou had expected a barrage of questions or something of the sort, but Percival had simply lain him on a makeshift cot and bid him a good evening. Apparently, now that the king had returned, there was much business to be discussed among the remaining Order.<p>

As soon as the next day dawned, Percival had dragged Shirou away from his resting place and out into the main wing of the castle. The first place Shirou was shown was all of the third floor where all the knights of the Order and many other highly-ranked officials slept. The fourth floor, he was told, was off-limits to all but the king's closest confidants, and the fifth floor was actually the roof. It was okay to go there, but he had to make his presence clearly known, or he might get shot by someone's arrow.

The second floor was reserved for lower-ranking officials, like Baeddan, as he was the Head Cook. Of course, many rooms on the second and third floors were empty, but that would change as King Arthur grew more influential, Percival had told him. The first floor was comprised of the Great Hall, the Chamber Room, the Throne Room, and other miscellaneous places that would actually have no relation to Shirou whatsoever. There was also the Grand Hall that everyone had to pass through to get anywhere at all, and it led directly to the Throne Room.

The east wing, quite deep in width, was and comprised of the kitchens on the main floor, the buttery, the winery, the storeroom, the pantry, and other food related things. The second floor was composed of the cleaning servants, and a majority of the other servants necessary to keeping the castle running smoothly, like the main cooking staff. The third floor housed various cleaning materials, such as makeshift brooms, towels for dusting, and other necessities, such as blankets and other household goods. The fourth floor of the east wing was currently devoid of anything until even more people moved in.

The west wing, which was approximately as deep in width as the east wing, used the space of all four floors. Up on the very top floor were all of the pages, three to four to a room, with the squires on the third floor, with one to two to a room. The second floor housed all of the appointed knights who were to stay with the castle and main troops. The ground floor was where the armory was located and the intel room. This was the room where the king ordinarily prepared the captains and knights for strategic maneuvers to be taken on the battlefield. Shirou wasn't allowed to go inside those particular rooms, but he did get a tour of the second, third, and fourth floors.

The last and final wing was the north wing. This wing was a bit of an oddity, as it could only be reached by detouring through the second floors of the east or west wings. It entrapped the castle gardens, and by going down to the first floor of the north wing, a person could reach a smaller chapel and a small, albeit wonderfully beautiful, resting place normally only visited by the king, queen, and their closest confidants. The gardens themselves were free for everyone to see, providing they had the time to do so. As for the hidden area that was restricted just to the select few, well, the little, lion cub made sure to guard the bridge entryway well. The second floor was simply a walkway, and the third and fourth floor were home to the several magicians who were employed to the king, and were receiving training from Merlin.

There was supposedly a hidden tower somewhere near the north wing, but a person wouldn't be able to see it unless Merlin wanted them to. It apparently was somehow linked to a trans-dimensional portal that would allow it to either appear of vanish with Merlin's will, or for those who had the key. King Arthur, Percival had been quick to say, was the _only_ one who had that key aside from Merlin himself. Even if someone else stole the key from the king, somehow, they would just be incinerated as soon as they attempted to unlock the tower door. Shirou had vowed not to bother even considering trying to see what kind of key it was. Well, he didn't have much reason to try seeing Merlin in the first place anyway.

Percival had offered to show him around the grounds, too, but Shirou had asked to see the roof of the main wing first before anything else. Once they had reached the roof, despite Percival grumbling that there wasn't anything up there worth seeing, Shirou had walked to the outer wall and quickly hefted himself up onto it at one of the lower ridges. The archers on the roof stared at him as if he was crazy, but when they noticed Percival didn't make a move to stop him, they turned back to continue their surveillance.

Shirou had quickly funneled prana into his eyes and was immediately greeted with a view of not only the grounds in complete detail, but a basic layout of the city spanning out away from the castle. It really was a huge place and Shirou had been curious about how someone would think to protect a town so large. Obviously, its size had nothing on Fuyuki City, but it was still impressive. After a couple more minutes of looking out at the place, Shirou had jumped off of the wall and gone back to talk to Percival, saying he was finished. After that, Percival stated that he had to get Shirou to the kitchen by the scheduled time or the king would have his head.

At this point, they were walking down the stair column towards the first floor and Percival was warning Shirou about the boss he was soon to have.

"The guy is a complete madman, constantly ranting about this and that and perfection and how everything must be laid down so. 'Tis a shame that he somehow managed to snag himself the position as Head Cook, though the title comes nowhere close to actually fitting him."

Shirou frowned at Percival. "You don't seem to like him much."

"No, mate," Percival denied, "I don't think you understand. _No one_ likes that whelp of a man, and even the king would like to do away with him. What's unfortunate is that he really is the one most knowledgeable about food in that ridiculous place. You understand now why I was so pleased that a man like you would show up out of nowhere and please the king as you have. The best route, of course, would be to make _you_ Head Cook, but that won't happen."

"I don't think it would be right for me to take away that title after just getting here, anyway. I'm fine just helping out around the kitchen."

Percival grabbed hold of Shirou's hands and sniffed. "You, good sir, have a wonderful soul! So humble, so brilliant, you practically glow with magnificence! Are you certain you won't take my hand in marriage?"

Shirou peeled his hand out of Percival's grasp and shook his head. "Sorry, I'm into girls."

"Oh, I am, too, my good fellow. But everyone must have someone cook for them. You would be my husband, only second to the wife that I am to take in the future."

"Your wife wouldn't cook for you?"

"Indeed she might! But, what to do if she turns out to be a shrewd incapable of lifting a cutting utensil?"

The brunet sighed dramatically. "I would be fated to live a life of eating that which does not need cutting. In other words...the same life I currently live. How dreadful an existence to imagine."

Shirou chuckled a bit at the knight's antics. The guy was a real card, all right. Though, with Percival around, nothing was ever boring, and Shirou had no time to think about what had happened only a mere week before. The knight was always frolicking – no, this was not meant to be used as flowery language as the man truly did frolic – everywhere, and sometimes he would even skip. One time, as they were up on the second floor of the east wing, Percival had suddenly dashed down the corridor and flipped up the long skirt of one of the cleaning girls. She, of course, screamed and, for some reason, all the women looked at him as if he were the culprit. Their glares were reminiscent of Rin, Sakura, and Saber's glares and had freaked him out. He'd had to run away after the cackling knight to escape their fury.

"In any case," Percival said, continuing his bashing of Baeddan, "the only good thing about that louse would have to be his sister. The only reason I spoke to him in the first place was because I found out how absolutely, gloriously beautiful she is."

Percival clenched his fists tightly as he looked up at the ceiling with a smile upon his face. Shirou raised an eyebrow. "Did you manage to ever get with her?"

"Of course, my good man. At least once a week, if not seven, give or take a few nights," Percival admitted with a lecherous grin. "You see, I cannot sleep without exercising a bit beforehand. As such, deep in the night, I am always looking for a little bit of, well, fun, so to speak."

The redhead shook his head. "You seem like you have a little bit too much fun, if you ask me."

The knight drew back away from Shirou as they walked, seeming somewhat offended. "You just do not understand, mate. What is life for a man without a woman? Rather, I should believe that it is only by having that significant other that a man truly comes into his worth and becomes that of a true man. He becomes something pure, something untouchable, a powerful presence."

"So, you're trying to say that it's the woman that makes the man?"

"Precisely so! For instance, take a moment to consider the king, if you will. His Majesty is resolute and strong not only because he is naturally inclined to be, but because he has the backing of a strong woman like the queen! The queen would never consider leaving him either, because he also fulfills her in a way no other man could. They are the embodiment of perfection. In a way, I must say that I envy His Majesty's greatness."

Shirou had begun frowning partway through Percival's explanation. No, that wasn't the case at all. King Arthur was strong and resolute, sure. That much was true. However, she wasn't strong because of Guinevere, but because she was born and raised to be that way. Guinevere may have supported her, but in no way was the queen the king's reason for success. Not to mention that it was partially because of the queen that King Arthur had fallen in the first place. Shirou couldn't exactly place all the blame on Guinevere, though. He probably wouldn't have been able to deal with a situation like that either, no matter what the cost.

"I don't think that a person's success should have to be due to the support they have from someone else," Shirou started slowly, carefully thinking of how to word what he wanted to say. "People can succeed from sheer determination even if they have no one backing them. One of my closest friends had no one as she grew up, but she's still one of the strongest, unbelievably incredible people I've ever had the luck to meet."

Percival shook his head, his grin fading as he approached the discussion maturely. "I speak of matters of love, not matters of life. I believe it to be a fact that one is capable of so much more when they have that love bound to them. Do you honestly believe a person who has not loved could be stronger than one who has, or even one who has loved and lost?"

"I think that would depend on what trials the person who hasn't loved before had to deal with up until that point. If that person had lived a harsh life, and the person who had loved had lived an easy one, I sincerely doubt that the latter could defeat the former."

"Yes, I suppose that is true," the brunet conceded, looking down. "Then let us analyze this particular situation: both men have lived a similar life, yet one continues without knowing the concept of love while the other marries, has a family, and continues forth. Would you not say that the man with the family has much more to lose than the one without? In which case, the former would fight harder and triumph over the loveless one."

Shirou shook his head. "That's being too optimistic. The latter may not have had a family, but what of his pride and goals? Those are enough to propel a person forward through anything, and succeed no matter the strife."

"That is true, too. You present a wonderful point, my red-haired friend. I must consider this more deeply."

Percival and Shirou walked side by side, finally reaching the first flight and turning to head towards the east wing. The silence was welcome and unassuming, and Shirou had to be honest – it was nice having someone to bounce random ideals off of. He and Rin had always discussed a number of things in explicit detail, to the point where they would often lose track of the original question, but it had always been an interesting experience. She brought up so many points that he would never have considered in a million years.

Sir Percival was the first person in this time period Shirou could trade various ideas with and not have the take offense for whatever ideals he may have blabbed on about. Ceri hadn't been one for hypotheticals, but had been more focused on the present. In a way, Shirou supposed he could say that King Arthur had actually been the first person with whom he could talk about what-ifs, but those conversation had mostly been about his own future, so they didn't really count as much. It wasn't like he wouldn't have survived without the mental stimulation, but it did make him feel more at home, so to speak. It was a good feeling to have.

Percival turned to him again. "Perhaps I think this way because I love the idea of a happy ending. Fighting a war doesn't allow me to be so sentimental, not that I would have the time to consider such on the battlefield regardless."

"There's nothing wrong with having a happy ending," Shirou argued softly. "I just don't think you can place all your faith on a specific ideal and expect that to be the one that governs your entire life."

Wait, that didn't make sense. Wasn't that his sole reason for living, to become a hero? That is the only thing he had thought about for the entirety of his life after his father had passed away, and was how he became who he was up until that day. Shirou gritted his teeth as he thought over his comment. It wasn't wrong, but rather, it just conflicted with everything he'd done up until now, in a way. In another way, it entirely supported him.

"Right," Shirou continued. "It takes more than just an ideal. It takes everything you have that comes with zeroing in on that specific ideal. You can't just focus on one aspect, you have to carefully consider everything that comes with acting upon it. I have a goal, too, but if I didn't have the determination or a loose concept of what my goal was, then the ideal itself would be meaningless."

Yeah, saying he wanted to be a hero was fine, but unless he took the steps to fulfill his goal, then it would just remain an ideal. He had to work to make that possibility a reality, and not just something that floated around in his head when he wanted to feel better. It was why he had trained so hard, and had studied magecraft so feverously under Rin's tutelage. As Rin had made clear, ideals were nothing without gumption and sustenance. Sustenance, for fueling the gumption, and gumption for fueling the sustenance.

It was odd, Shirou thought with a frown. He had somehow forgotten about all of that. He had somehow forgotten, or misplaced in his mind, one of the most important pieces of his essence and being. When had that happened?

"Nary can I deny the words you speak, Shirou," Percival said, agreeing with the time traveler. "After all, it is not simply the love I seek that pushes me forward, but the love I gain from my woman and my tenaciousness that allows me to continued succeeding as much as I have. I also desire to strike down any enemy who would stand against my king or mean him harm."

"That's good to hear," Shirou said with a smile.

"Speaking of love," the knight continued, "have you ever loved a woman in a non-familial manner?"

Shirou quickly lost his smile. "Yes, once."

Percival was quick to latch onto the confession, missing the terseness in Shirou's tone. "Oh? And where do you keep this woman of yours? Do you hide her in a far off village?"

"She died a long time ago."

The mirth in Percival's expression vanished instantly, so swiftly in fact, that Shirou was shaken a bit at the transformation. The knight's blue eyes narrowed as he averted his gaze, mouth set in a frown.

"I see," he said simply, not offering up any more than that.

The two had stopped walking as Percival continued looking down, looking somewhat guilty. Shirou shifted around his shoulders, feeling sore from carrying his backpack all over the castle. The conversation had come to a dead halt thanks to him and the tension felt thick and uncomfortable.

"I'm okay though," Shirou said as he looked at his new friend, and began walking forward again with the knight matching his pace after a moment. "It was a short and sweet relationship, but I don't regret a thing. She wouldn't have wanted me to anyway."

"What was she like?" grudgingly asked Percival, unsure if he even should have.

"Strong, determined, someone who followed her ideals to her end. I guess in a way, she was the reason I came to understand that it's not just your ideals that make you strong, but everything that comes along with them. I was...blessed, to love her as I did and be loved like I was."

"She does seem rather brilliant, I will admit. What did she look like?" Percival ventured further.

Uh, was it really a good idea to say? Well, it wasn't like this was Japan, and besides, even Ceri had blonde hair and green eyes, right? This was Britain. Features like that were common. Yeah, telling him wouldn't really be a big deal.

"Blonde hair and green eyes," he said honestly.

"Oh, so you're into blondes, you say?" Percival said, cracking a hesitant smile. "Well, I have the very person for you!"

Shirou's eyebrows raised as Percival suddenly dashed forward down the hallway. The redhead had to break into a jog himself to catch up as Percival stopped next to a rather unimpressed looking person standing next to the main entrance of the kitchens. He gulped when he saw the brunet standing behind King Arthur and pinching her cheeks and creating a forced smile on her face. Shirou also took note of how her trembling right hand was barely inches away from where Excalibur was hooked to her belt. He wondered why she was walking around with it – had she been out on the grounds with the soldiers?

"Pershibal," she slurred out as Percival continued squeezing her cheeks, "if you do not get away from me right now, I will be forced to hurt you."

The brunet let go of her cheeks and then nuzzled his face against the king's. "See, Shirou? The king is a handsome blond with green eyes! He already has a wife, but the spot for his husband is still open."

Shirou wasn't the only one to suddenly take a step back away from the two – two boys who had been right behind the king before Percival had bounced over had also quickly separated themselves from the king. They hugged the outer wall tightly and Shirou felt like doing much of the same.

As Percival leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek, he was surprised to suddenly find himself holding nothing but thin air right before something very, very hard slammed into his chest, sending him flying back and sprawling onto the stone ground. Shirou gaped with wide eyes as King Arthur gently drew her foot back and set it back down on the ground lightly and gently touched her crown – wow, she had a crown? That was pretty cool – to fix its position slightly. Her royal blue skirt and the cape attached to her left shoulder flowed around before eventually falling still while Percival didn't even move a muscle. For a moment, Shirou had thought he was practically dead before Percival suddenly raised an arm and pointed a finger at the ceiling, exclaiming,

"How feisty His Majesty is! What a fine husband!"

His arm then fell back onto the ground with a clank as he groaned slightly.

Shirou jumped a bit when the king turned her annoyed gaze over towards him. Her cheeks appeared to be flushed a bit red, but that was probably because of how hard Percival had been pinching them.

"Should you deign to keep him as your company, Shirou," she warned, tone completely serious, "I plead that you never mimic his mannerisms. For your own sake."

For a second there, Shirou thought that Percival really had died from the king's strike until the man groaned again and pushed himself up off of the ground. King Arthur and the redhead watched as Percival stood up, bowed over a bit briefly, and then drew back up to his full height again. He clutched tightly at his chest, looking slightly miserable and yet impressed at the same time.

"I believe that was one of your hardest kicks to date, Your Majesty. Good show, good show."

"I thank you for giving Shirou a tour," the king said, ignoring Percival's comment. "You are no longer needed at this time. I ask that you do not be late to the meeting this afternoon. We have much to discuss concerning the mission you set off upon."

"As you say, Your Majesty," Percival said, bowing deeply. Then, he looked at Shirou with a grin and added, "I am telling you, the king would make a grand husband!"

"Percival," King Arthur warned, her mouth firming with disapproval.

The brunet spared the two one last grin before turning away and walking back down the corridor, head held high. Both the blonde and the redhead watched him walk away, and once he was far enough away, King Arthur turned towards Shirou, face expressionless. He looked back at her expectantly, but she didn't say anything and merely frowned at him as the occasional person walked down the corridor doing whatever task necessary. Then, she appeared to strengthen her resolve and steel herself – for what, he wasn't quite certain.

"Behind me, as I am sure you are now more than well aware," she began, "stand the kitchens necessary for preparing the food meant for all of the people within the castle. Within those kitchens is a staff of approximately nearly one hundred people: Baeddan, who is the Head Cook, ten to fifteen others who make up the 'upper echelons', so to speak, and the remaining members who act as normal servants. All of your orders will ultimately either come from Baeddan himself, or filter through the upper echelons through a branching system. Do you understand what I have said thus far?"

Shirou nodded silently. Percival hadn't had too many good words to say about the man, but after dealing with Matou Shinji at his worst, how bad could this guy possibly be? If nothing else, Shirou thought, he might be able to keep his head ducked down and stay out of trouble.

"Good," King Arthur acknowledged with a nod. "Then there is no need to explain myself any further on that matter. As I have promised, I will introduce you to Baeddan and have you accommodated appropriately. However, as I have declared once before, this will be the end of my direct support to you – you will need to find your own place as a cook and come into yourself on your own. Do you understand?"

The redhead nodded again, noticing the two boys passing him glances every now and then. Was he that interesting to look at? He turned his gaze back to the king as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"I wish to hear your vocal assertion that you have heard and understood my words."

"I understand," Shirou said simply.

"I do not believe you have replied in full, Shirou."

He stared at her, not sure what else he was supposed to say. He shifted his gaze left to think about a word more formal than "understand", but wasn't really coming up with anything. Then he shifted his gaze to the right, feeling somewhat troubled. One of the boys standing next to the king mouthed a couple of words, and Shirou had to narrow his eyes and concentrate on the mouth movements really hard. Hearing the old tongue and actually recognizing it without sound were two completely different things. King Arthur followed his gaze and turned to look at the boy herself, but he had quickly reverted back to a serious countenance. She frowned further and turned back to face Shirou.

"Shirou. Your reply."

"Uh," Shirou muttered, paying very close attention to the boy who had renewed his efforts to help the confused redhead, "uh, uh, oh. Oh! I mean, right! I understand, Your Majesty."

King Arthur let out a light sigh and scowled softly at the two boys standing behind her. Shaking her head slightly, she said, "Very good. Though it is worrisome that you needed to confer to another person before you realized your mistake."

"Right, I'm sorry."

She raised an eyebrow, and Shirou quickly added, "Your Majesty."

"Better late than never, I suppose," she muttered. "In any case, as I have said, I will no longer be able to help you directly. If you need something of me, though I could not possibly imagine what situation would require as much, you must request that assistance through the proper chain-of-command, which, in your case, would be to start off with your upper echelons. That will allow for seamless communication to occur.

"Which brings me to the foremost important point," King Arthur affirmed. "You are no longer directly under my protection. Of course, should there be an attack, and you are, for one reason or another, within range of me, I will protect you as a king and a knight. However, with this, you truly are on your own. If a problem occurs and you are at the crux of it, I will not be able to spare you due to any pointless or random sentiments. Should you do something grave enough to require my attention, I may be forced to imprison you thusly and have you prosecuted and publically executed. Also, depending on the nature of your transgression, perhaps tortured as well."

She said all of that without a hint of embarrassment or hesitation. In other words, she meant every word – if something happened and someone claimed he was the cause of it, that would be the end of him. Period. No ifs, ands, or buts. Shirou blinked a few times as he averted his glance, thinking about what she had told him seriously.

"I doubt it will ever come to that, however," she said, though Shirou definitely detected a hint of warning in her tone. "So, and I ask this in the most sincere manner possible, please do not cause any unnecessary trouble, whether in the near future or far. You are now a person of my kingdom, and I do not wish harm to befall you, but should that happen, there will be nothing more I will be able to do in such a situation. I am bound to the oaths I vowed once I became king. Now, shall we proceed with introductions?"

She turned to open the kitchen door before turning back and looking at him again. "Ah, and one last thing: the food you made during our journey – it was more than acceptable. I had meant to make that clear, but did not have the opportunity. My apologies."

King Arthur pushed the door open as Shirou pondered over her words and the two walked in, with the two boys remaining outside to wait for the king to come back out. Shirou wasn't sure what he had been expecting when he first went into the room with her. If nothing else, he hadn't ever thought kitchens could be so large. Not just large, either, but overwhelmingly so.

The entire room spanned the length of nearly fifty meters at the very least from north to south, was around twenty meters deep from east to west, and was the room closest to the southern side of the castle. The tall ceilings arched far over his head, each stone brick blackened with soot and coal used to maintain the cooking hearths. Metal pipes ran along the edges towards the outside, filtering out the hazardous fumes from the main area. All three of the comparatively small fireplaces were placed against the southern wall, each crackling and popping violently as they fueled heat for the food cooking over it. The northern wall opened up to an inner passageway that probably traveled to the other rooms alongside of the Great Hall.

Practically forgetting that he was supposed to stay close to the king, Shirou took a few steps forward, his golden-brown eyes shifting back and forth as he took in everything there was to be seen. Several tables laden with plates – wait, didn't Saber say there weren't any plates to be found in her time? Maybe she meant _serving_ plates, because there were definitely a ton of plates to be seen, mostly stocked with a lot of meats or other goods. Vegetables, fruits, and different cheeses lined the many tables running along the length of the room, with several iron bars hanging down from the ceiling to hold onto the several hanging pots, pans, and other materials.

Shirou navigated around someone, hardly noticing them as he approached the table closest to him and traced the shape of a few knives laying down its top. He looked up again towards the hearths, and the spinning wheel up in the corner nearest to northernmost hearth caught his curiosity. Shirou looked closely at the wheel and his eyes widened when he realized there was a dog running inside of the wheel, and the wheel was, in turn, connected with each spit as they spun the meat attached to them. He hadn't realized that in the medieval period, they'd used dogs as a type of electricity. That would probably have fallen under animal cruelty in his time.

The westernmost wall was where all of the, by his standards, old fashioned ovens were. The metal pipes he had seen before were funneling the fumes from the coal beneath the ovens and essentially keeping the area nice and clean. There were nearly six ovens lining the wall, each one right beside the other. That was a safety hazard if he'd ever seen one. Lining the easternmost walls, near the doors he and the king had entered through, were a great number of shelves that held a lot of odds and ends. He mostly saw a lot of bowls, but – and Saber had been right – no plates.

How was there not a single serving plate to be found anywhere within the entire castle? Did they really just eat their food right off of the table? _Royalty_ ate their food right off the table? Where were the forks, spoons, and knives? It wasn't as if they didn't exist in some form or fashion. Shirou rubbed his face with a hand – the kitchen was amazingly overwhelming and it had plenty to offer him, but he had definitely taken things in the future for granted. Using dogs for manpower definitely couldn't be a good idea, either. The entire kitchen was unbelievable, though. Even if he didn't have state-of-the-art materials and appliances to work with, it was definitely a souped up kitchen for the sixth century.

The thing that blew his mind away the most, though, had to be how _busy_ it was. She hadn't been kidding when she said there were nearly one hundred people buzzing around, preparing meals. It was after noon, now, right? That meant that people were actually eating lunch or whatever as he stood there gawking, and as he'd looked around, he'd had to jump out of the way of a number of people as they darted back and forth. He was pretty sure, actually, that two hundred people could fit within the kitchen alone, but he also saw a number of people racing in and out of the room performing various tasks.

Some people were taking care of the meat specifically, others were mashing things into bowls – mortar and pestles? – some were cutting up something or another, others were attending to the ovens, a few were feeding the fires with wood and the ovens with coal, a number of people were washing a good amount of dishes in the sinks lining the walls to the left and the right of the door leading to the passageway, and an incredible amount of other things were being done as well. Was it a good idea to be sweeping as people were cooking? That was probably not very hygienic, and what were they using to wash those dishes? Liquid soap obviously hadn't existed back then, so, were they just soaking them in regular water? How did they scrub them?

"Is that cold water?" he asked himself while frowning a bit.

"Is cold water a problem?" asked a voice from beside him, and Shirou felt himself jump a bit. Holy crap, he'd forgotten that she was still there.

"No," he sighed, willing himself to calm down as he turned toward the king next to him. "Hot water would probably help make them a bit cleaner though. But wow, this kitchen is unbelievable. It's so busy and lively. It's incredible. A lot of work has obviously gone into this place."

Though King Arthur didn't physically express anything, he could feel the warmth in her words as she responded,

"I am glad to hear the kitchen meets your expectations, Shirou."

She gestured to her right and Shirou took notice of the man standing next to her. Standing at nearly 175 centimeters, he was of an average height for a man. His rich, raven hair was cut short and his chocolate-brown eyes seem to pierce through to Shirou's soul as the man looked him over. The man wore a jet-black tunic that was tied at the waist with a yellow sash. The blackness of the tunic carried on down to his breeches as well, which were also accompanied by blackened leather boots. He kind of reminded Shirou of an assassin of sorts, save for the yellow sash that added just a bit of color. The man looked less than impressed with the redhead in front of him.

"Baeddan," King Arthur said, "this is Shirou, the man I spoke of before. And Shirou," she continued, turning back to look at the time traveler, "this is Baeddan, the person you will be working for starting today. You will report to him for your future duties."

Baeddan and Shirou measured each other up, Shirou unsure of what to say. He didn't get the sense that Baeddan was a bad person overall, and definitely not to the extent that Percival had made him seem. Rather, he seemed to just be a serious person and –

"I suppose I could put him in the spinning wheel with the dog."

And, Shirou took that back – the guy was asking to be punched in the face.

Shirou didn't even bother to mask his look of anger and King Arthur didn't appear very happy with Baeddan's response either. She fixed the Head Cook with a glare, obviously somewhat irritated.

"You will do no such thing, Baeddan," she stated clearly, lest the other man try to ignore her in some manner. "You have pestered me daily for months for more assistants, and with each demand, my steward has procured yet more and more people to work under your service. Yet, you dare turn down the one person that I have personally found fitting for this profession, and have given a solid recommendation?"

"Would working with the pigs and oxen prove a better job then, Your Majesty?" Baeddan questioned, seemingly genuinely curious.

For a moment, the king merely stared at the other man who seemed undeterred in the slightest. She took in a short breath, let it out slowly, and turned to face Baeddan, green eyes cloudy and dark.

"You test my patience, Baeddan. Perhaps I have been too lax in allowing you such freedom to this day," she spoke slowly, her voice deeper than usual. "Allow me to be more specific: you _will_ be using this man in the main kitchen, not as a runner, not as a server, not as a bottler, not as anyone that does not _actively_ participate within the kitchens where we currently stand. Do you understand?"

"I would sooner cut the cur up and serve him as slabs of steak than have him prepare food and potentially bring harm to Your Majesty."

Oh, whoa, this guy was, for lack of any better words, a dick. Cut him up and serve him as pieces of steak? Shirou couldn't even fathom such an idea, but after thinking over it, he took a quick peek down the collar of his tunic. He hadn't been exercising like he'd done so much in the future, but he hadn't really lost any of his muscle tone and there was hardly any flab on his body at all. He wouldn't make much of a good steak, he surmised in the end.

"Cur?" King Arthur repeated, almost with disbelief.

"You would have the enemy traipse around in one of the most important rooms of the castle, a room where miracles are made and people are essentially resuscitated and able to continue with their existences?" asked Baeddan, placing his hands on his hips. He snorted as he turned and walked away to direct a few people handling the fires of the hearths.

Shirou just watched him walk away before looking back at the blonde beside him. She hadn't bothered to chase him down or anything, but simply stood there, the index finger on her left hand tapping the hilt of Excalibur with an uneven rhythm. Her narrowed eyes were closed as she appeared to be deep in thought. He looked around them and saw that no one dared approach the door they were right in front of, instead darting through the inner passageway and taking the long way around to get to where they needed to go.

Well, it looked like he wasn't going to be working in the kitchen anytime soon. That was a shame – he had kind of been looking forward to it, especially after seeing what the kitchen looked like. What else was there left for him to do, though? If worse came to worst, Shirou _could_ try becoming a soldier after all, but he didn't think himself ready for that kind of leap yet. Maybe he could work with the cleaning staff? As long as he was still in Camelot, maybe it didn't really matter all that much what he did. Cooking had seemed like it would be an interesting experience, though.

"I sincerely despise that man."

The words were spoken softly enough that Shirou could barely hear them over the roar of the kitchen itself, so softly that he wasn't sure if he had heard correctly at all. As she wasn't paying him any particular attention, her glare focused on the retreating back of Baeddan, he wasn't sure it was even an admission that he had been meant to be privy to in the first place. In a way though, Shirou thought as he crossed his arms over his chest, it was nice to hear words like that come out of her mouth. She had such deft control over her emotions and speech that she didn't seem human most of the time, which he knew had been one of the reasons that led to her eventual downfall.

That...was incredibly depressing to consider. Shirou still didn't know how much time he had left, but what he did know, or what he assumed, was that she was somewhere in the earlier years of her reign. The castle wasn't as busy as it could possibly be, her influence was still lacking, and something about her just made him feel like there was still hope. She still had her humanity, as opposed to the person he had met that one fateful night, the one who had lost everything and more. The King Arthur next to him still had time – there was still hope. There was, but, what was he supposed to do about that?

King Arthur cursed softly and looked at Shirou, saying, "Remain here. I will return with Baeddan shortly."

"Wait," he spoke up, reaching out for her. "Maybe this isn't a good idea after all. Your Majesty."

She frowned at him. "Did you not desire to work in the kitchen?"

"I do, but not if he plans to cut me up and feed me to people. Or treat me like a dog."

"Hm, indeed," she agreed softly. "You need not concern yourself with that empty threat. I will deal with this problem accordingly."

He felt the air chill a bit as she straightened her shoulders even more than usual. She turned away from him, lowered her chin slightly, clenched her fists, and marched over to where the other man was talking to – read: admonishing, berating, chastising – a person who was working the hearths. Without the slightest bit of hesitation, her right hand shot forward and grabbed hold of Baeddan by the front of his tunic. He seemed appalled when he looked at her, and she pulled him down to her eye level, green eyes glaring fiercely.

"My business with you is not yet finished," she spat out softly, so soft that the people around them would hardly hear her, if at all. "Now, do you think yourself able to walk back on your own, or shall I assist you in that endeavor?"

Baeddan glanced around quickly to see who might have been watching them. The king had been quiet enough with her words that no one had paid them any more attention than when she had first strode in. However, being that she _was_ the king, there was hardly any possibility that they weren't being carefully watched at that very moment. He swatted her hand away, righted his tunic, and with a small "hmph", walked back over to where Shirou was standing warily.

King Arthur followed after, her gaze focused on Baeddan's back until she was again took a position next to Shirou. Scowling, she let her left hand rest on Excalibur's hilt to serve as a warning to the Head Cook, just in case he had any plans to cause her further aggrieve. Baeddan, taking the hint, merely glared back at her with his head held high.

"Really, Baeddan," the king started, voice still rich with anger, "must you cause me so much stress? Introductions should be a simple, timely action to deal with, and yet, you make any conversation we have so very difficult on a regular basis."

"What can I say?" Baeddan retorted. "Your charm leaves much to be desired, King."

"I could not hardly care less," came the biting reply. "Who are you to walk away in the midst of our discussion? Did you not learn any manners as a child?"

"An interesting question. Perhaps I should entertain my father with such a discussion. Should I tell him that King Arthur bullied me into following his every whim?"

"I shan't have to say that, as a king, I need not 'bully' you to do anything."

"Hmph, what a child you must be to always rely on your status to have your way. Perhaps once you finally grow into a man, you'll recognize what it means to have a real discussion."

Shirou saw the king's fists clench and tighten to the point where he could practically hear the steel of her armor grind together slightly. Aside of her eyes growing an even darker green and the quickness with which they defocused and refocused, if he hadn't been well-acquainted with her, he would never have known that she was ripe with fury. Of course, that was to be expected – Baeddan had both stomped on her pride as not only a king, but a man, and given a swift kick to the rear on top of that by saying her age made her incompetent. It was probably safe to say that she was pissed, and Shirou was only too happy to note that he was not the target of her anger.

"I will have you pay for that slight, Baeddan," she mustered out as calmly as she could.

"Throwing a fit now, are we, _Your Highness_?" Baeddan remarked lightly, crossing his arms across his chest and appearing slightly amused. "Take that demon and be gone from here with your jests, Your Majesty. Though I do find it amusing that you _are_ capable of leading me on like so. New help, indeed."

"I see no demon present," King Arthur was quick to retort through clenched teeth, "but what I do see is someone who will soon regret his words if he does not care to recall the position he currently is in."

"Quite the empty threat," Baeddan countered with a grin. "Your Majesty and I are both well aware that I am the best cook within the whole of England, and that is why I work here at Your Majesty's castle. The best, and most qualified. You would never do away with me."

"How odd. As a matter of fact, I was of the mind that there was someone even far better than a person of your standard standing here in this kitchen with us."

"Impossible," Baeddan rebuked with a frown. "If nothing else, I have utmost confidence, to the point of arrogance, in my cooking abilities."

"Ah, but 'tis true. And yes, the person I refer to is the very one you wished to have sliced up into steaks."

The sarcasm is strong with this one, Shirou thought.

As Baeddan's intense gaze suddenly switched over to look at him, Shirou had to wonder what kind of relationship the king had with Baeddan. In a way, they seemed like a bickering couple – a couple that should have divorced before even getting married in the first place. However, with the amount of enmity they were emitting, he knew there was some real hatred being passed between the two, despite their light banter. If she hated the guy so much, why didn't she just get rid of him?

"Perhaps he is capable of cutting a few carrots here and there."

Shirou felt a headache coming on, but noticed that King Arthur didn't seem the least bit surprised. Had she expected the man to say as much?

Man, Baeddan was way too much – he had to be about the biggest asshole in England, and that was saying something. Shirou ran his hands back and forth through his hair, feeling a bit angry. When he took notice of his surroundings again, though, he saw that both the king and Head Cook were staring at him, with the former's frustration quite palpable to see. Baeddan was grinning fiercely when Shirou made eye contact with him. King Arthur simply glared at him – oh, great, now _he_ was the target of her anger...again.

"Oh, I'm an asshole now, am I? I cannot say that I disagree with you, but I am less than keen on hearing such words from a fool such as yourself."

Damn it, he'd given voice to his thoughts again. That was seriously a bad habit.

Baeddan turned to the king, bowed, and said, "Your Majesty, I will be more than happy to take this...man, off of your hands. With pleasure, truly."

"See that he is taken care of, then," sighed King Arthur.

Then, as she turned back around, she caught Shirou's worried gaze with a glare of her own, and softly, just so only he would hear, asked,

"Do you take such pleasure in digging your own grave? Did I not inform you that I would take care of the situation? You have just managed to place yourself on his blacklist. Do _not_ cause me any further trouble than this in the future."

She was _really_ mad, though the anger seemed be directed between both him and Baeddan – mostly at the latter. He bowed his head slightly, making sure not to make eye contact with her as he did. Shirou really hadn't planned to get involved in their little spat, but he apparently hadn't kicked that bad habit yet. If it wasn't his words, - the mouth was the cause of all calamity, after all – then it was his inability to hide his facial expressions, which was practically just as bad. When he opened his eyes and stood up straight again, he saw that she had forgiven him silently, if only just barely.

"Shirou," she said calmly, "I have thus now fulfilled my promise to you. Have you any further questions?"

He hesitated slightly before just shaking his head in the end. He'd have to figure stuff out on his own.

King Arthur nodded. "Then I must now bid you farewell as I have other pressing matters to attend to. You will now report here as ordered by Baeddan, and Shirou... Godspeed."

He noticed there was a warning somewhere in those last two words of hers but was unable to comprehend what had actually just happened as she walked past him, her armor clinking gently all the while. She walked out of the kitchen and Shirou watched as the wooden door closed, creaking all the while. He really was on his own and left to his own devices now. And, just what the heck had she meant when she said he was on Baeddan's blacklist? Well, no, it obviously meant what he thought it meant, but was it all that big a deal?

The clap of a hand on his shoulder brought Shirou back to reality and he turned to see a grinning Baeddan standing right next to him. Scowling a bit, Shirou pushed off the other man's hand and moved back a few steps. Baeddan merely kept smiling, his brown eyes twinkling with delight as he acknowledged the redhead.

"Tell me, friend, are you hungry?"

"Depends," was Shirou's guarded answer.

"I'll have you eat your meals in the Great Hall today then. Only today, though, while I'm in a good mood. I'll also have your rooming situation dealt with, and I'll even relieve you of any duties I might have otherwise assigned you. Ah, 'tis a sweet day."

"What's going on?" asked Shirou, not entirely sure if he wanted to know or not.

"I think I actually will make you cut the vegetables, though. Maybe if you can handle that, then maybe, just maybe, I'll give you more responsibility. Quite doubtful that you'll even know which way to hold a knife at all, though, so, probably not."

Baeddan had completely ignored Shirou's question. He really did appear to be genuinely happy for whatever reason, a fact that was quite easily understood by the way he would raise his hands up towards the ceiling and praise God for blessing him with such a life. Baeddan pumped his right fist a few times before sliding back over to Shirou's side and wrapping an arm around Shirou's shoulders amiably. The smile on the other man's face was beginning to creep Shirou out.

"Friend, I ask you, did you _see _the look upon the king's face? You," Baeddan remarked cheerfully, jabbing a finger into Shirou's chest a few times, "must be quite the special peasant. Never have I seen the king lose his composure so, well, not to _that_ degree. And did you see his face when I called you a cur? You, my good sir, are quite the man. I like you!"

"You said you wanted to cut me up into steaks."

"Yes, but no, friend! You see, that was before you called me an 'asshole', of all things. You see, that takes some audacity, and never have I been called such a thing to my face, of all things. I admire that spirit of yours! Normally, I would have killed you with a butcher knife myself, but seeing as I was able to pay witness to such an event, I have thought to spare you. Isn't that wonderful?"

Well, that was another strange person that Shirou could add to his list of oddities. Did he just have some sort of penchant for drawing in strange, nonsensical people? Taiga was downright crazy, Shinji had been a lunatic during the war, Sakura – well, he'd never known what was going on with her, Rin was a nut, – nice and kind, but a nut – Issei had that thing against Rin, Myrus had, well, he was Merlin, so that was self-explanatory, and Saber had been a bit of an oddity, too, in that she loved food far more than a person should have. Now, he could officially add Percival and Baeddan to that list as well. Hm, well, normalcy was overrated, anyway.

"So," Shirou began, trying to grasp an understanding of the other man, "we're cool? I mean, you're fine with me?"

"Oh, _no_, you silly monkey!" Baeddan denied happily. "I hate you, abhor you, _loathe_ you even, for calling me such a rude term. Who do you think you are, foreigner, to label _me_ like that? I'll have you know that you know absolutely nothing about me, and yet, you dare to insult me? Such cruelty, but what else is to be expected from a mere plebian?"

Baeddan lost his smile with his next words. "However, Shirou, was it? I'll just call you Ro" – damn it, there was that name again – "because it's easier. So, Ro, I now know that you are the key to toying with that fool king."

"Your words sound an awful lot like treason to me," Shirou murmured, his eyes narrowing.

"Of course not. King Arthur is absolute and amazing in every way. He's a fool though – he thinks I'll be taken aback by having some foreigner in my kitchen? He thinks I will rage and destroy everything in my wake and give him a reason to kick me out? Oh no, my friend. That will not be happening. You'll see to that yourself."

"So, you're an egotistical asshole, then."

"Now, there you go with the rude statements again. I will be making your life a living hell starting tomorrow," Baeddan replied, smiling again. "I can't wait. For now, however..."

The egoist turned away from Shirou, his facial expression changing to something far more serious as he sneered at a man sweeping out food particles from beneath the food preparation tables. Baeddan snapped his fingers a couple of times.

"You there. What was it again, Zago? Zagobel! You, come here, now."

"Zagobel" shifted his gaze over from he stood, looking less than amused with the man who had called for him. His cloudy-grey eyes flicked over at Shirou once briefly before shifting back to look at Baeddan. He turned around and walked over to Baeddan, gripping the broom in his left hand tightly.

"You called?" drawled out "Zagobel", his eyebrows raising as he seemed to feign interest. "And for the tenth time, my name isn't Zagobel. It's Dagobert."

Baeddan slapped Dagobert across his face, the noise barely audible with the backdrop of noise within the kitchen. Dagobert didn't react in the slightest, just rolling his head back around to continue staring at Baeddan with boredom.

"You presume to think I care," Baeddan sniffed. "Well, whatever your name is, you're currently alone in your room, am I correct?"

"Yeah."

Baeddan seemed a bit miffed with the plain manner in which Dagobert answered, but ended up ignoring it.

"Good, good. This boy, Ro, will be your new roommate. You've been lucky to be alone until now, but soon, you, too, will be living with three roommates."

"Goodie."

Shirou bit his bottom lip, unsure of whether to make fun of Baeddan for how annoyed he looked, or just stay silent to keep himself from getting into more trouble. After a few seconds, he realized that causing trouble was the one thing the king had ordered for him _not_ to do, so he could obey at least that much. As far as first impressions went, he was pretty set on the type of person he'd judged Baeddan to be, but Dagobert was rather mysterious. Aside of the assertion of his own name, everything else he said was just one-worded phrasings. There wasn't much to go off of, but since they'd just met, that was only natural.

"Okay. Sure."

Shirou raised his eyebrows as he came back to the present and he glanced at the other two men, one at a time. Dagobert thrust the broom at Baeddan, who looked down his nose at it, as if even touching it was something far beneath him. Dagobert frowned at him a bit, held up the broom and then just let it drop to the ground as he turned away. He walked past Shirou, pulled one of the large, wooden doors open, and then went out into the corridor. Shirou took one last look back at Baeddan, but the other man had long since dismissed him, instead choosing to look at the broom as if it was something distasteful and wrong to touch. Letting out a whoosh of air, he, too, opened the door and walked out of the room.

Dagobert spared him a glance. "Let's go."

"Okay. Where are we off to again?"

"You weren't listening?"

Suddenly, memories of being chastised by Saber and Rin for not paying attention flooded his mind. It was a bad habit of his that he knew he needed to rein in, but he'd always forget. He hoped he didn't anger his new roomie – who knew what kind of temper the man had? Shirou didn't particularly desire to start off on the wrong foot, as he had with practically everyone else in this time period. He kind of had a knack for doing so, though.

He shook his head slowly to answer the other man's question.

Dagobert stared at him for a short while before clucking his tongue and turning away with an expression of frustration.

"Shit. I wasn't, either. Damn, now what?" After thinking for a bit, he then said, "Fuck. Who the hell cares? Let's go get some grub or something."

"Uh, okay, but what about the room thing?"

"I haven't eaten for the past seven fucking hours. We're getting some damn food first."

Dagobert swiveled around and, with Shirou following behind dutifully, headed for the southern exit so they could head around to the main entrance and hit the Great Hall from there. The inner passageways were only for the servants to get around easily when serving food and the like, but if they were going to actually partake in meals themselves, they had to go in through the proper entrance. The Great Hall was actually split up into two separate areas – the real Great Hall was separated by a thick curtain that stretched across the entire room, and was for the explicit use of the king, queen, and highly-ranked knights, with an entirely separate entrance, as well. When there were guests, the curtain could be opened and the entire room used for the entertainment of the guests.

The other area of the Great Hall was technically called the Mess Hall, and was meant for the soldiers and other higher-classed individuals to use. As most of the soldiers ate their morning meals anywhere from six to eight in the morning before taking to their duties, servants were forced to eat any time before that, which usually meant somewhere between four and six, providing there was actually food ready for them, or sometime from around eight-thirty to ten, when the soldiers would be in again for a quick lunch. If the servants were unfortunate enough to miss these windows, they were forced to stand with their meals, or just skip them entirely.

Regardless, what the servants ate was not normally something a person of good sense would call food fit for a person. The early morning hours were the leftovers from the day prior, the mid-morning hours were laden with scraps from the six-to-eight time slot, and so forth. The real food was served to the people who played a more solid role in the castle or battles. Since Shirou was new though, the two would be able to eat the food normally given to soldiers – the food given to the royalty was a dream that would never be attained by the likes of them, said Dagobert.

If what Saber had said was anything to go by, though, Shirou doubted they were really missing out on very much. He peered around as Dagobert led him to a serving table where they would both pick up pieces of their meals and carry them back to whatever table they were going to sit at. They were only allowed to have as much as they could carry, so it wasn't really surprising to Shirou when he saw Dagobert load up as much food as physically possible. Having eaten with Percival barely a few hours earlier, Shirou wasn't ridiculously hungry, but had been sure to grab some meat, hard bread, and a some soup in a metal container. When Shirou sat down next to his compatriot, the latter immediately turned to look at him, both of his cheeks stuffed with food.

"Ro, right?" Dagobert managed in between chews. "I heard that there was this guy who came with the king from someplace, but never knew it'd be you."

"It's Shirou, actually," the redhead grumbled slightly. "No one can ever say my name right around here."

"Oh, hey, man, I hear you," the other man agreed. "My name's actually pronounced Dah-go-berh, you know, because the 't' is silent and shit. No one gets it right, so I tell them to call me 'Dago', but then some stupid fuck called me 'Zago' as a mistake, and that one stuck for some reason. Well, better than 'Bert', I guess."

"Dagobert," Shirou repeated, sounding it out slowly. "That name doesn't seem indigenous to Britain somehow."

"It ain't, brother," Zago confessed. "Let's just say that I'm not really from around these parts."

"So, what should I call you? Dagobert, – am I saying that right? – Dago, Zago?"

"Baeddan hates you well enough, so you must be a good sort. You can call me Zago, I guess."

Shirou took a bite from a piece of meat and found it incredibly bland. Nothing was seasoned at all here in the past – it really was just used for sustenance to survive to see another day. There was really nothing special about it at all. The soup was tasteless as well, and the bread was practically a rock. Shirou was sure he could've skipped it across water without too much difficult, or he could use it as a baseball, or something.

"What's the deal with Baeddan anyway?" Shirou asked after a while, the question having floated around his head for a while. "King Arthur didn't seem to be too pleased with him."

"He wouldn't be. Baeddan is basically the bane of the king's existence, or one of them, at least. The guy takes a piss on King Arthur every chance he gets. If he ain't doing that, he's constantly complaining about the lack of staff, which is fucking stupid since we've got more than enough people for right now, if he'd actually use us right. The fucker is an asshole, and I'm totally for King Arthur kicking his dumb ass out of Camelot."

Zago glanced around quickly before whispering, "Eh, but you didn't hear that from me, mate."

"You don't seem to like him much either," Shirou whispered back.

"That's because he's arrogant about shit he knows nothing about. You heard that line about how he's supposedly the best cook in all of Britain, right? That's so far from the truth that it kills me to hear it. The fucker."

Shirou tilted his head, and rolled the piece of bread in front of him on the table. He was seriously thinking of just chucking it – it was practically inedible. Maybe if he dipped it in the soup, would that help...?

"Isn't that a bit cruel?" he asked innocently. "He seemed pretty confident."

"Yeah, he's got confidence in spades, but the guy has no taste buds. No, don't look at me like that. I mean, literally, has no taste buds. He can't taste the shit he puts out, but is more than willing to make everyone else eat the crap. Actually, we lesser people are way better off. I feel bad for the king. Baeddan actually tries to cook fancy stuff for him."

Maybe that was what Saber had meant by "crude". Well, actually, hearing that information only made him all the more curious as to how Baeddan became the Head Cook in the first place – King Arthur obviously didn't like him, nor did a lot of the staff, seemingly. Shirou tapped his finger on the piece of bread before eventually just putting it into the cold soup and letting it sit there for a while.

"I've been wondering," he said, frowning down at the soup and at the piece of bread that refused to get soggy. "Why is he still here, anyway? Why doesn't the king just toss him out?"

"Can't."

"Why not?"

Zago waved his hand back and forth lightly, looking somewhat annoyed. "Something about some debt or whatever. Don't ask me – don't care, can't find the will to care. I have no fucks to give on that matter. If the guy could actually taste the crap he put out, I'm pretty sure he'd actually be a damn amazing cook. He's got the technique and skills, but his one Achilles' Heel is his damn inability to taste anything. A cook who can't taste. Seriously?"

Zago peeked over at the bread stubbornly refusing to turn soggy in Shirou's soup bowl and pointed at it, asking, "You going to eat that?"

Shirou shielded his bowl of soup away from Zago with a small frown. "You talk a lot more now than you did in the kitchen."

"Brother, I am one of the most talkative people you will ever meet. I just hate that pissant because if anything bad happens, it's always the lower servants' faults, never his. He takes the position of being like a god within the kitchen, so much that no one can even come close to approaching his brilliance there. Besides, speaking in monosyllables when I can makes him unbelievably, incredibly, indescribably angry. When he's angry, he kicks you out of the kitchen. Sure, the next day is pretty bad, but hey, where's the harm in a few extra hours of sleep behind a bag of flour somewhere?"

Zago tapped his fingers on the table rhythmically, his food already eaten. Shirou looked forlornly at the piece of bread that was still too hard to eat, sighed, and just drank the soup instead. As expected, it was completely bland and tasteless and left him wanting for something a bit better. As soon as Zago saw that Shirou was finished eating, he waved for the latter to get up and follow him. The two left the Great Hall with Zago explaining how things worked in the kitchen and in general.

The mornings begins incredibly early at anywhere from four to five in the morning to begin preparations for the morning service, and none of the servants received breaks until approximately nine or so, but only for half an hour, give or take a few minutes. Even then, the breaks were taken in shifts, and, if Baeddan hated the person enough, they might not receive a break for the entirety of the day, disregarding bathroom breaks. The noon service lasted from ten until around two, which meant everyone was usually rushing around for the full four hours, plus some time after for cleaning the kitchen.

It was after the lunch menu that the servants received their largest break of nearly a couple of hours. Then, it was back to work around four in the afternoon for the evening meal which began around when the evening bell usually rang, which was at approximately six in the evening. The evening meal, like the morning one, only lasted a duration of approximately a couple of hours, as most people needed to get to bed early. There was one more service – the midnight one – where some people were arranged to stay in the kitchen from approximately ten at night until midnight to cook for the soldiers who worked the night shift, but that was actually voluntary. Those who signed up received special benefits, but because that would leave them without much rest over the day, not many actually wanted to participate in that shift.

Zago wasn't sure what kind of perks came out of doing the night shift, as they were different for each person. Sometimes they received extra breaks, or chances to eat in the Great Hall during the main meal times, or even permission to skip out on shifts entirely and sleep in for longer. The frequency of receiving more breaks as opposed to other perks was a bit greater, as one was free to do as they wished during the breaks. If they wanted to sleep for a bit, or if they wanted to head out into the city, or whatever the case might be, that was something the receiver could decide at their own discretion.

However, the problem with the breaks was the people who would award the special advantages. Those in the upper echelons, not Baeddan, were the ones to divvy out such rewards, and therein lied the main issue. There were exactly twelve people who made up the higher-classed staff, and for the most part, they were all quite kind. Two of the people, however, warned Zago, were not to be trusted, under any circumstances. Firstly, there was Dai, a man who hailed from a town to the far west, along the coast. He originally grew up as the son of a fisher, but ran away from home at the age of seventeen, having been too buried under responsibility and wanting a new life. After four years of wandering around, he eventually came to Camelot a few months after King Arthur was officially crowned. The castle required people familiar with cooking and he was then recruited after directly appealing to there.

Dai's personality was that of a miserly man who cared for nothing but himself, for the most part. More than likely, he was only a part of the higher staff because he had arrived at Camelot so early when the kitchen was nothing much to see. He and Baeddan got along rather well as each one aspired to make meals that were not only well-tasting, but looked to be of high-class material. The reality was a bit different from their ideology, but regardless, whenever Baeddan required assistance, it was Dai he would always quickly go to. However, Dai was not only content with his position in the upper echelons, but flaunted the status around, practically boasting to any person who was unfortunate to be close enough to him. More often than not, Dai took to making incomprehensible commands, and then getting angry whenever the person with whom he was speaking wouldn't understand. For example, he would ask someone in charge of handling meat to go empty the chamber pot the majority of the kitchen staff used. Not only did it not make sense, but if the person refused, Dai was known to resort to violence. Zago was quick to point at his shin where he apparently sported a large bruise.

The next person that Zago was certain to warn Shirou about was Telyn, from the kingdom of Lyonesse. Telyn, too, was a runaway, though for a completely different reason. Her father had been an upstanding citizen within the city and had wanted to have her married off to a soldier with a very well-off family. When she had thoroughly, and quickly, refused the demand, the soldier decided to take things into his own hands. One evening, when Telyn was out buying ingredients, the soldier captured her and forced her into a shack that wasn't often used. After binding her down and stuffing her mouth, he then took her that night without a single word. In the soldier's eyes, if she was deflowered, then she would not be able to wed any other man but him, for she would be considered as too sullied to touch. In addition, in the case that she became pregnant, he would be able to swoop in and declare he was marrying her for a better future, for the both of them. When the soldier had released her, Telyn, instead of running home and informing her father, wept and asked for her rapist to turn around while she cleaned herself up. The soldier, not thinking anything of it and already believing himself to be in the best situation possible, was quite taken aback when Telyn jumped on his back and slammed a sharpened piece of scrap metal into his back.

The soldier didn't even have a chance to breathe in to scream or push her away when Telyn pulled the metal out and slammed it in again repeatedly. She had apparently sat there for a long while, her face and dress splattered with the blood of the man who had taken her virginity. She had calmly stood up, walked home and snuck into her room, changed clothes, and vanished that same night. Whatever she might have been before that night no longer existed in the present Telyn. She had changed forever. In running away, she found Camelot kilometers away after months of traveling and turned to it with the hope of escaping her past and building something new. King Arthur was the sign of a new age, and where better to turn than the kingdom he ruled over directly? She was scouted by Baeddan personally when he saw her looking at ingredients somewhere in the city.

Overall, Telyn was not a horrible woman. She could actually be quite gentle – she did not hate anyone as she considered it a terrible emotion, but was unable to bring herself to actually trust anyone in particular.

"Then what's so bad about her?" asked Shirou as the two approached the room they would share starting that day.

Zago snorted and opened one of the many doors in the corridor. "The lady knows how to hold a grudge. She doesn't forget even the smallest slight against her. So, as long as you don't tick her off somehow, she's fine with you. Ah, but let's not forget that the smallest crap sets her off. She's even worse when she's together with Dai."

When Dai and Telyn first met one another, it was more or less a never-ending friendship from the very start. Dai was willing to take action and punish those who might begrudge either him or her, and Telyn was willing to display a kindness Dai would never have been able to demonstrate. They were like two pieces of a puzzle that fit together admirably and neither one separated from the other if they could help it. Dai, for his part, carried no grudges or ill will against anyone – he just liked to show his superiority. Telyn didn't particularly care to boast, but was very quick to remember any wrongdoings.

As for why it was terrible to receive any kind of award from either of them? Telyn was quick to recall the bad things the person being rewarded had done, and Dai would deliver a punishment that would basically nullify whatever award the person might have received otherwise. If someone were to have received extra time to sleep, but had once arrived to their shift late due to oversleeping, they would instead need to work the shift they would've gotten time off for instead, despite doing the night shift. This meant that the person would have had little to no sleep, but wouldn't be able to go to bed again for hours on end.

"That...actually seems kind of fair."

"Yeah, when you aren't the one who has to deal with it yourself."

That was true.

Shirou looked down at the cot Zago had led him to, sighing as he finally took off his backpack. It had been a long day, but he was really exhausted. Looking back at where his new roomie was, he found Zago lying on his own cot, already snoring. Smiling slightly, Shirou plopped down on the cot and sighed.

It was kind of hard to believe that he was actually in Camelot, sleeping more or less under the same roof as King Arthur. Turning around on his cot and lying down fully, his arms folded under his head, he suddenly thought about the life that he had left behind. What would Rin do when she found out he was gone? Would he be stuck in this time period forever? What exactly was he supposed to accomplish in this time period?

All right, so Myrus had said that King Arthur was suffering due in part to him, and that she had never died after that battle. So, how long afterwards had she lived, then? Had Shirou forced her into a situation where she had to reflect over every single mistake she had made in her life, without the solace of knowing death was close by? So, how was he supposed to do anything about that? Was he supposed to wait until the moment that the Battle of Camlann took place to say his apologies? What good would an apology do in that instance, anyway?

"Oh hey, Saber. I'm sorry you had to suffer for all this time, but, uh, there's got to be a plus to this, right?"

Yeah right. He would basically be shitting on her with that comment.

Shirou sighed again, his eyes starting to droop somewhat. He had to come up with a plan... Maybe if he could somehow change her outlook on life now, then maybe she wouldn't have to suffer a fate like that. Then again, if he did somehow manage to change her outlook, wouldn't that mean that the two of them would never meet in the far future? That filled his heart with sadness, but if he could make up for causing her such pain by making her see the error of her ways earlier, and not have her deal with becoming a Servant at all, wouldn't that be the best thing he could possibly do for her otherwise?

"It's my turn to try protecting you, Saber," he murmured, eyes finally closing as he fell into a deep sleep.

He just needed to get stronger first.

* * *

><p>The next day brought with it a flurry of craziness for Shirou. Zago had woken him up sometime around four in the morning – he still couldn't get a handle of telling time by the stars yet, plus it had been cloudy that morning for once – so they could eat an early breakfast together. After eating quickly, they had ran to the kitchen to prepare for the morning service, and since Shirou was new, he had to be there earlier than most others so he could receive training of sorts.<p>

Zago had merely patted him on the back, told him "good luck", and ran off to start sweeping the area. Baeddan had immediately put Shirou to work on cutting vegetables as promised. The knife he had given Shirou was rather crude, but sharp. Baeddan had stood next to him the entire time, arms crossed over his chest, as Shirou skillfully peeled and sliced every carrot set in front of him. While Shirou couldn't read Baeddan's facial expressions very well, he figured he must have done something marginally acceptable as far Baeddan was concerned, because the Head Cook was quick to head down the inner passageway and come back with two baskets full of carrots.

_"Cut every single one of these into wedges the width of your pointing finger. Then wash them, and have them given to those in charge of making soup."_

When Shirou had looked down at baskets, he had realized there had to have been at least a hundred carrots in each basket alone. That wouldn't have been a problem for him, but by the time Baeddan had finished instructing him on his duties – why did talking about cutting vegetables have to take nearly half an hour? – it was nearly five in the morning, and he had approximately half an hour to get every single cut carrot to the soup makers. He was good, but he wasn't _that_ good.

He had made it through about three-fourths of one basket when Baeddan had come back demanding that he hand over his work. When the latter had realized that Shirou hadn't even finished one basket, he had merely frowned.

_"I suppose I shouldn't have expected that much from you."_

If Baeddan hadn't taken so long to talk to him about how to slice a damn carrot, he might've been able to actually finish. What had the man expected him to do in just a half hour? What was he supposed to be, Superman?

_"Morning service is two hours right? If you just give me another hour, no, even maybe forty more minutes or so, I think I can –"_

_"You had your chance, knave,"_ Baeddan had said coldly.

The Head Cook had turned to the table where Shirou and a few other people were preparing the vegetables and told everyone to step aside. Then, with strength that Shirou would have thought impossible for the man, Baeddan had flipped the table over onto its side, sending everything that had been atop of it scattering and flying across the sooty stone floor. Shirou had stared at the mess with a horrified expression before sending a glare over at Baeddan. The latter had simply ignored him and gestured at the mess as he had stomped on a few carrots and leaves of cabbage here and there, making sure to smash them into the soot and dirt even further, utterly destroying them.

_"Thanks to the new boy, Ro, here, I will now be forced to inform His Majesty and all those who come to eat breakfast that there will not be any soup available for consumption and that they will simply be forced to wait until the lunch session for that. How incensed they will be to find they have little to partake upon but bread and ale for breakfast."_

_"Are you freaking insane?"_ Shirou had shouted. _"You're going to waste all of this food because I couldn't cut two hundred carrots in half an hour?"_

_"I assigned you that task, and expected you to fulfill your duty."_

_"How about not assigning something so impossible next time? All of this food is going to go to waste now!"_

_"I assigned it because I assumed you could do it,"_ Baeddan had responded matter-of-factly, as if never having considered once that no human was capable of doing something like that. Even seventy-five carrots had been impressive. _"And this food won't be going to waste. Obviously, it cannot be served to the soldiers and royal members, but it will not be wasted, nonetheless. This will the mid-morning meal of you four in particular, if you desire to eat anything at all, so might I suggest you all start cleaning up? Unless you're not interested in eating for another six hours or so."_

_This_ was supposed to become _their_ meal? There was soot everywhere!

Shirou had been so angry at what Baeddan had done that he had rushed the man, not thinking clearly of the consequences that might come of doing so. For all of his whining and complaining, the man was built as solid as a tank – there was not any wasted energy in any of his movements and he was as physically fit as possible. He could have been a soldier himself with how healthy he seemed to be.

When Shirou had charged him, Baeddan had, like a judo martial artist in the future, grabbed him by his sash and collar and completely flipped Shirou forward and slammed him flat on his back. Baeddan had then slapped him across the face once and then hefted him back up to his feet. Gripping Shirou's dirtied tunic collar as if with a vice, Baeddan drew the redheaded man closer and asked,

_"At any point, did you ever once feel that you could actually cut that many in that much time?"_

_"Of course not! What normal person could?"_

Baeddan had closed his eyes for a short moment before opening them again, rearing back his fist and smashing it straight into Shirou's face. Shirou had flown back and hit the ground hard, immediately bringing a hand up to touch the place where he'd been hit. Wincing slightly, he pushed himself up off the ground to a sitting position to glare back at the other cook.

_"And that's where you went wrong, boy. The second you thought you couldn't do it was the second you failed. Now, clean up this mess and think over the mistake you've made and the damage you've caused."_

Shirou had gritted his teeth as he'd looked at the mess on the ground. The three people who had been in charge of cutting various vegetables alongside him had stared down at the mess as well, looking slightly depressed. Unlike him, they had been working for at least an hour on all of their cutting and washing, and all that had turned to nothing in the blink of an eye thanks to him. He had reached forward and picked up one cut piece of carrot colored black by the soot and clenched it tightly in his fist. He had made a real mess of things, though it hadn't entirely been his fault this time around.

_"Do not worry so much, Ro," _one woman was quick to say, her eyes kind._ "This is not the first time something like this has taken place, and I can nearly guarantee that it will not be the last."_

He later learned that this woman was Eos, one of the few close friends Zago had managed to make within the kitchen. She was a secretive one, and Zago had never seen her with anything but a smile upon her face. She was also, apparently, ridiculously kind and always ready to give a helping hand. Eos, too, was a member of the upper echelon, but took greater pleasure in being around other "normal" servants as opposed to flaunting around her power as most of the others tended to do.

_"Don't spoil the lad, Eos!"_ growled one man who scowled down at the disaster. _"Damn that Baeddan. Does he think for one second that I'm really going to get down on my knees and clean up the chaos _he_ created? Damnation!"_

The man who had said all of that turned his back on Shirou and walked away with the fourth person who had been at the table.

_"You won't see me cleaning up that craziness. That boy was the one who caused this mayhem, so he can be the one who cleans all of the crap up! Damn it, I'll just go hungry then. The things I have to put up with..."_

Shirou had gritted his teeth as he scooped some soot into his hands. The rest of the people in the kitchen had made sure to ignore what had gone on and Shirou wasn't able to blame them in the least. Eos had bent down next to him and started picking up pieces of vegetables here and there, her saddened smile never disappearing.

_"Nothing's going right lately,"_ he had muttered to himself.

_"These things take time. Do not worry – Baeddan will get used to you soon enough. Not everyone can go at the same pace as he can."_

That had annoyed Shirou more than anything else. Maybe it was his competitive nature, or maybe he just didn't want to be told he was incapable of doing something at the same rate someone else could, even though he excelled at it. Either way, Eos's kindness had only put him into a worse mood.

With only the two of them working together, cleaning up everything had taken the better part of a couple of hours, and considering how covered with soot they were, Baeddan wouldn't let them go near any other food. On top of that, the Head Cook had still been irritated by Shirou's folly and chose not to acknowledge him due to the incident. Eos and Shirou had been unable to fully clean off every single vegetable, and so every single bit of it had been disposed of. Eos had been considerate enough to get Baeddan off of his back, but Shirou was still incredibly irritated. Baeddan had acted as if cutting up two hundred carrots was a simple task in a mere half an hour, but Shirou couldn't figure out any way to actually go about it. It was really getting to him. He wasn't exactly a master chef, but he'd still had faith in his abilities, regardless.

Shirou sighed as he and Eos walked down the corridor on the second floor of the east wing. She was making sure he could find his way before she went off to brush all of the soot off of her own clothes. As soon as they both reached his and Zago's room, Shirou turned to her with a slight bow.

"I'm sorry about everything. It took a long time to get everything taken care of, too."

"Fret not, Ro. Ah, no, sorry, Shirou, wasn't it?" she amended, smiling softly. "As I stated before, you need not concern yourself. These things do tend to happen, and there is nothing to do about it but allow time to bide as it will. If you try rushing things, nothing good will ever come of that."

"I guess," he said grudgingly. "I promised the king I wouldn't cause any trouble, but it seems like Baeddan is already ready to toss me out."

"Nonsense," she disagreed. "The king wouldn't pay any attention to a single word Baeddan said at such an early stage anyway, and believe you me, he has most certainly tried in the past."

"Thanks, Eos. You're a really sweet woman."

Eos seemed to freeze as a bit of redness spread across her cheeks. It was the first time he had seen her without a smile on her face, though he wasn't quite sure what could be wrong with her at the moment though. Eos cleared her throat, her midnight-blue eyes turning away from Shirou.

"Thank you kindly, Shirou. I am simply here to help."

"Yeah, and you've done a lot of that. I'll try harder not to be so annoying in the future."

"No, no, you're just fine," she countered as he opened the door to his room.

Shirou looked inside and was surprised to find Zago laying back on his cot and just staring at the ceiling.

"Whoa, Zago? Are you on break already?"

Zago waved at Shirou. "Hey mate. Nah, I made a run for it. Working is overrated, anyway."

Eos's eyes widened slightly before she frowned and politely slid in through the opening between Shirou and the doorjamb. The second Zago saw her, he flipped back off the cot and pushed himself up against the far wall. Holding his hands up in surrender, he chuckled hesitantly, saying,

"Oh, hey there, Eos. Long time, no see?"

Eos narrowed her eyes slightly. "Yes, although that may be due to a certain someone always skipping out on work when it's his turn. It's no wonder the kitchen never gets cleaned."

"Hey, hey, don't blame that _all_ on me. I'm just one man. Besides, sleep beckons me."

"I have long since grown tired of covering for you, Dagobert," she pointed out softly. "If you do not intend to fulfill your duties, I may be forced to exert the power I hold over you. I trust that you will not like my doing so in the least."

"I'm innocent! Sleep! Blame the sleep! It called to me, wrapped around me, and made me wanting for more," Zago said, holding his hands to his chest. "I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. It's like the loving embrace you would have from that one, lovely woman. Ah, 'tis agony to leave her be. Sweet, sweet sleep."

She scowled slightly. "I most assuredly would not, I will have you know! And you will never get this woman you speak of with such a lackadaisical attitude. Simply dreadful."

Zago cowered slightly as Eos walked closer to him before eventually reaching out and grabbing a hold of his ear. Shirou couldn't hide a grin as Zago squeaked before begging and pleading with Eos as she dragged him along and out of the room. Initially ready for some relaxation after the mess earlier that day, Shirou thought it might be a little better for his mentality if he wasn't left alone to muse and contemplate over various things. He followed them out into the hallway, making sure to close the door after him as they walked ahead of him.

Eos finally let go of Zago's ear when he started whining nonstop, her expression filled with annoyance.

"God _damn_, woman, you're like the older sister I never wanted!"

"How dare you use the Lord's name in vain?" she retorted. "Such a child you are, constantly complaining and yet never lifting a hand for yourself!"

"How the _hell_ does that guy deal with you?"

"Don't you dare try to shift the blame to others for where you lack. Unbelievable."

"Bitch! I don't lack shit!"

Eos turned to look at Zago with a soft and gentle smile. Zago frowned at her with narrowed eyes, and seemed to be about to ask what her deal was when her hand whipped out and grabbed his ear again. With a silent yell, Zago clasped his hands over her right one, trying to find a way to get her to release him.

"My, my, perhaps my hearing is becoming faulty. Could you say that again, more clearly this time?"

"You are a beautiful, all-knowing woman who is incredible beyond her twenty-three years! Ah, even as the seasons change, you never will! How I have always desired an older sister such as yourself! Now, could you please, possibly, perchance let me go...?"

She smiled genuinely this time, readily releasing her deadly grip on his ear. Zago rubbed his ear over and over and drifted back to walk next to Shirou.

"Holy mother of Jesus! Why does she _do_ that?"

Shirou chuckled. "I think you were asking for it, honestly. What'd you think was going to happen if you said all of that?"

"Uh, I don't know. Not that, at least."

"Then you deserved it."

"You both suck."

As they walked past one of the windows, Zago noticed that the shutters were open and that a cold draft was flying in. He motioned for Eos and Shirou to wait as he went to close them before they heard him groan slightly. Both of them walked up to his side and looked out of the window alongside of him. Eos frowned as well, sighing deeply.

"What?" Shirou said, confused.

He didn't see what the issue was. The window overlooked the patch of dead grass in between the castle and the outer wall. He looked up and saw a bunch of grey clouds in the distance, but not much more than that.

"See those clouds up there?" Zago said, pointing up at the sky. "The big grey ones? We're going to be dumped on really hard."

"It's just like last year," murmured Eos, looking slightly concerned. "I had hoped that with us so far into December that maybe it wouldn't happen at all, or at least, not to such a degree..."

"What? Rain? Snow?"

"Snow," confirmed Zago. "And a whole lot of it. Damn it, the supplies come in at the end of the week, but we're going to be buried. Ugh, I don't want to go outside now."

Eos nodded, feeling much of the same. "It was difficult enough last year, but I'm not sure anyone is prepared for that to happen again this year."

"Is it really that bad?" Shirou asked, looking out of the window again.

"I guarantee we'll only be seeing white by the end of the week. Who knows," Zago said, shrugging his shoulders as he started walking away after closing the shutters. "Maybe we'll get lucky."

"Aw, it can't be that bad," said Shirou with a small smile.

Eos and Zago looked at him pitifully, but said nothing as they walked away.

True to Zago's words, the snow began falling that very night.

* * *

><p>And...that's that. I'll tell you right now, I love Zago. Zago will be everywhere for like the next 3-4 chapters. So...get used to him. :D<br>Percival will be around. You know, always ready to pass King Arthur a kiss here and there.

Also...beta pleeeeeeeeease. :D


	7. Chapter 7

Happy Holidays and a Happy New Year to all of you guys. I wanted to get this out earlier, but have been a bit busy. Whatever. So, this stands at a little under 13k. This is what everyone wanted, yes? I'm already excited for the next chapter...as all of you should be! Get ready for all the awesomeness.

Also, 300 followers, 250 faves, 130 reviews? You guys are amazing! Okay, let's get to it!

* * *

><p>"Here's the last one."<p>

"Yeah, thanks."

Shirou grunted as he picked up the last barrel of wine, feeling the muscles in his arms stretch and tighten as he tried to balance it in his arms. Splinters of the wooden barrel stabbed and pricked at his hands and he barely managed a nod at the man who had brought in the last of the goods. The redhead frowned and hefted the barrel upwards for a better grip before finally making his way back towards the kitchens. He couldn't see over the barrel, so he had to try looking around the barrel's right and left to see in front of him. Luckily, the cart had been fairly close to the doors heading into the east wing, so he wouldn't have to walk too, too far.

After walking down the long corridor, he went directly into the winery and lifted the keg up onto one of the resting stands. Sighing as he leaned against the stacked keg, Shirou wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. He righted himself and looked around the room. Many of the stands still remained empty, though Shirou wasn't sure if that was the norm or not. He turned around and headed out of the room, back down the hall, and back outside to see if there was anything else that needed assisting. He wasn't the only person rushing back and forth to get things done though – all of the other servants working in the kitchen had been racing to and fro with barrels and kegs of other things, putting them in place and then coming back out for more. The rush had only begun about a couple hours earlier once the supply carts had finally made their way through the castle gates.

Shirou frowned as he walked outside, his eyes gazing over all of the white covering the ground as far as he was physically capable of seeing. On top of all of the servants, there were also all of the mages out and about, melting down as much snow as they could with simple fire magic. They couldn't melt down too much of it because then the castle would have flooding to deal with as well, so that made things a bit complicated. It seemed they were focusing primarily on creating the primary path from the outer gates to the main doors. The squires and pages, on the other hand, were clearing out the training fields on the other side of the grounds, as most, if not all, of the servants were focused on dealing with the supplies. A decent majority of the soldiers were out helping the villagers shovel away snow or making a path around a couple of kilometers long leading up to the city gates. The knights, for their part, were personally directing groups of soldiers in their particular endeavors, as specifically commanded by the king herself. And speaking of kings...

He looked over at the blonde walking steadily across the extensive castle grounds. As far as he knew, having only taken glances at her every so often while he worked, she had been making rounds all day, personally ordering people to do certain things, like shoveling or assisting the merchants and suppliers. King Arthur had been in the thick of things as usual, and had hardly been a few motions away from taking to a shovel herself. Shirou had seen her disappear down into the main city every so often before coming back up and directing soldiers elsewhere. In other words, she was definitely keeping herself as busy, if not even busier than everyone else.

Shirou turned away and jogged up to one of the merchants who was taking inventory of the items he had left. The merchant glanced up at him once before turning away from the cart.

"I'm from the kitchens. Are there any more items left that need to be taken away?"

"The kitchens?" the man inquired. "No, those are all done. We lost a lot of cargo with the storm, so that's all we've got for His Majesty, unfortunately."

"How much is 'a lot'?" asked Shirou, frowning as he looked at all of the wagons. There was a good amount of them, but the number of them was apparently far fewer than had been expected.

"We barely managed to bring in about forty percent of the overall stock. Most of our wagons were lost with the snow and wind, and we had to leave the rest where it was."

"So, the rest of the goods is just lying around somewhere out there?"

"Doubtful. If the marauders haven't stolen them, then wild animals surely have, sir."

Not knowing why he was even surprised, Shirou turned away and looked back at King Arthur as she spoke to some other merchants who had brought their portion of the caravan to the east wing. It was a shame, but with how strong the storm had been, it was a wonder the caravan had ever managed to make it to the castle at all.

As Zago had prophesized, the snow storm had come billowing in that very evening, though not without torrents of rain and wind sweeping though and around the whole of Camelot. The wind had been slow and gentle at first, but it was the archers and guards stationed up top on the roofs and allures who first noticed the subtle change in the wind speed. After relay after relay of the new information through the ranks, the news of the upcoming ferocity was communicated to the king who immediately called for the town bell to be rung. In addition to the ringing of the bell, all servants were to prep the castle for the intense winds and make sure the shutters for every single castle window were closed and secured.

The flags symbolizing King Arthur's rule were to be taken down and sealed and all training was halted in favor of putting away and sheltering the various equipment. Hostlers attended to the horses, securing down different sections of the stables and making sure nothing would injure the horses throughout the entirety of the storm. All field hands and servants were forbidden from setting foot outside of the castle and the soldiers were to stay within their barracks through the duration.

When the town bell chimed, the castle attendants weren't the only ones rushing around busily to take care of loose ends. The city itself was in uproar as villagers ran back and forth to secure their houses and buy enough groceries to last them until the storm was finished. Gardens were "weatherproofed", animals were taken into the houses to rest with the families, and shops were closed earlier than usual for the evening to minimize losses. Something else that was extraordinary, as the king was loathe to do this very often, was that the gates, both that of the city and the main castle, were closed to heighten wind resistance and possibly lessen the damage that would be dealt.

Not even two hours after the first chime of the bell, the wind picked up and roared ferociously around the city walls and across the grounds. Shirou could remember the dead silence within his and Zago's room as the wind had bore down and slammed against the window's shutters. For all the effort the two had taken to secure the shutters, there was little to stop some icy cold wind from slipping through the gaps and whirl around the two. In the end, both men had just stopped trying to light the candles on the stands next to them since the wind continuously blew the flame out each time. Eventually, the two had grown cold enough that each one escaped the room and went to the kitchens for the evening. Unfortunately, once Baeddan had found them, he'd quickly assigned them something else to do – with everyone now stuck inside the castle, the kitchens were busier than ever and the Head Cook had been looking for more hands to help with the increased volume of partakers.

The kitchens, although being the warmest room in all of the east wing, – most "normal" servant rooms did not have fireplaces installed, unlike the rooms for the knights, those of higher ranks, and naturally, the king – it did still have several issues that had needed to be addressed. The pipes leading the coal fumes out of the main area were not completely secured and bound and with the wind, the fumes often had come swooping back into the kitchens, making it hard for most of the kitchen hands to breathe and work efficiently. A number of people had to go retrieve some ladders and towels and plug the holes around the pipes to keep the workspace free of poisonous air. However, because of how hot the pipes often became, many towels had also been set afire, which had required dousing them with cold water and then retrieving even more towels to replace them. Had there been some sort of fan, Shirou remembered thinking, there wouldn't have been as much of an issue, but powerful enough fans for that wouldn't be invented for another 1,400 years, or so.

The night had been a cold and dreary one, with a majority of the servants instead cuddling next to one another in their own particular rooms for warmth. The blankets allotted to the servants were quite thin and shoddy in quality, so it wasn't uncommon for many to come down with colds or even pneumonia during the winter season. Hot water was very much a commodity and something the common people would never experience for perhaps all of their lives.

Zago, very much irritated over their current situation, had guided Shirou skillfully and quietly into the pantry, a room that often fielded a lot of the heat from the kitchens. They had slept there that night, behind all of the flour satchels and barrels. The storm hadn't quickly gone away either, so the two continued sleeping there the entire week, not being discovered only thanks to Zago's experience with the matter – he was very knowledgeable on what flour bags and what wheat would be used for meal purposes.

With all of the snow, the supplies for the castle had been delayed day by day, and it wasn't until a week after its start that the storm finally died off enough for people to leave the castle for more than half an hour at a time. Zago had been none too surprised to see the near two meters of snow that had been dumped down on Camelot and its surrounding area. The first snow clean-up had taken place that day, and it took several hours to whittle down all of the snow and clear away most of the grounds, even with all of the soldiers, available knights, and servants working together as a unit to get things cleaned up. Half of the soldiers had even gone down to the city to help with clean up there, just as they were at present. Due to so much snowfall, however, the castle goods had been delayed indefinitely until the roads could be reopened for service. While King Arthur had desired to open up the main city gates, that proved impossible as another storm was quick to rumble over Camelot yet again.

Before Shirou had known it, a full month had passed since he had finally arrived at Camelot with King Arthur and her entourage, and the city and castle were sorely lacking for supplies. Food portions gradually grew smaller and smaller to accommodate for continuing every single service, but considering how much food was normally used, there was still a good amount that was being served to everyone. With lighter portions, servants had also been given a bit more time off, though in exchange, they had been forced to help shovel snow each and every single day.

With all of the tasks left for him to do, there had never been a moment for Shirou to really take a breather and simply exist. Even Zago had found it difficult to escape and get some much needed rest, as there had hardly been any to be found. The days had been filled with chores and the nights had been uncomfortable and cold. Even the king had seemed to lack much of her usual enthusiasm as her exhaustion and stress gradually took their toll on her over the duration of the month. Shirou had only caught glimpses of her here and there in the castle and out on the grounds when he had been shoveling, but never had he seen her look so ragged – of course, she didn't outwardly show it, but he grasped her situation bit by bit as she walked, spoke, and proceeded along normally. He could hardly blame her, considering how many complaints and grievances she had been forced to handle as the supplies grew more and more delayed.

When the supplies had finally been delivered, the quantity had been less than originally calculated for, but a large number of servants were called out to assist with taking in all of the goods regardless. Shirou had been one of the several attendants who hadn't been busy with anything in particular except for shoveling, so it had been an obvious choice for him to immediately begin helping with carrying everything he could in. The caravan was something that traversed the entirety of Britain, picking up packages or barrels of this and that along the way, as well as making its own specific deliveries. Shirou hadn't known what was in each particular keg, but there had been a lot of wine and ale – the Britons certainly loved their alcohol. With everyone working together, the process had only taken a couple of hours from start to finish.

Shirou continued absently watching the blonde as she rotated around the many wagons. He hadn't even realized the length at which he'd kept watching her until he noticed, with a start, her piercing, green eyes staring straight into his. Grunting slightly, Shirou rose up from where he was leaning against one of the carts and stood straight up as, after a slight moment of deliberation on her part, she turned away from one merchant and walked stiffly over to him. Her demeanor, as always, was serious and controlled, but he could definitely detect some wear-and-tear on her. Hm, she tended to become snippier when she was at the end of her ropes, so he hoped he hadn't somehow earned her ire. Although, it wasn't as if they'd actually spoken over the month he'd been there – it would have been odder if they had, Shirou supposed.

"Do you lack for something to do?" King Arthur asked as soon as she came within conversational range of him.

Both fortunately and unfortunately, no, he didn't. He was so busy with random things that he didn't have much time to think about previous few months, but then again, he was so busy that he didn't have time for the more important things either, like sleep. Shirou was quite ready to just project a real bed with real covers, or even a futon with real covers, as long as he could actually sleep with warmth for once. Even Ceri's house had had the fire going for a majority of the time, and it had been tended to by one of the two of them whenever they happened to wake up overnight. He was also a bit tired of waking up with his feet practically feeling like blocks of ice, but that was just how things were here. Modern conveniences of the future didn't exist here, obviously, but that didn't mean he had to enjoy it. Sure, Shirou appreciated the simplicity of the Medieval Age, but he certainly didn't enjoy it – it didn't matter how glad he was to be with the blonde again.

"No, I was just resting a bit," he confessed, a bit worn out. "Your Majesty."

She turned her gaze away to look at the doors leading to the east wing and at the several servants taking a breather next to the doors or on the snowy ground. Everyone looked exhausted – it had been a long month.

"Yes, I suppose I can understand what you mean," she agreed softly, her shoulders losing a little of their tension. "This has been a trying month and I had not imagined it would take the supplies so long to arrive. I also had not been able to foresee such heavy snowfall, either."

"I'd think you'd be more worn out than anyone else here," Shirou said, his head tilting to the side. "Are you doing okay, Your Majesty?"

King Arthur was quick to glare at him, as if he'd said something incredibly taboo. Had he?

"I should hardly think you to be in any position to monitor my condition. I am still more than capable of continuing the tasks required of me, unlike some who must rest themselves against cargo carts."

"What?" he mustered, taken aback more than anything else. "I mean, yeah, I guess I should get back to the kitchen and get some more work done, but..."

"That is not to what I was referring," the king was quick to say. "It is not simply you, but all of the servants over whom I am concerned. I realize the current weather conditions are not optimal, but I do not understand why all of you should look so ragged or tired."

"Let's just say that there isn't much difference between my room and that cold ground we were at when you yelled at me."

"I did not yell at you," was the first thing out of her mouth before she ducked her head in thought a bit. "What of your fires?"

"We have candles. Candles that get blown out by the wind within a second of lighting them."

"Blankets?"

"We have them," Shirou said, but as soon as she seemed ready to argue her point further, he added, "but ones that aren't chew toys for rats or as holey as Swiss cheese would be nice."

"Surely, you must be exaggerating," King Arthur retorted, right hand on her hip. "I am quite certain I would have been notified of such ridiculous conditions."

"Are you sure about that, Your Majesty?" he remarked, unintentionally sarcastic.

She seemed to take some offense at that. "I am hardly a tyrant, I will have you know. Do not think for one moment I would allow my servants to live in such inhabitable conditions. For that matter, do you really take me for someone who would seek the deaths of those who care for my castle?"

"Whoa," Shirou inserted, interrupting her rant before she really built it up into something. The last thing he needed was for her to get so heated that someone else would need to intervene, or worse, for her to decide to put that sword attached to her belt to good use. "That's not what I meant, ma'– _sir_. It's just, you're the _king_."

"As grateful as I am that you have finally come to that conclusion –"

"Could you let me finish?" Shirou asked irritably.

The blonde seemed shocked over the interruption for a few seconds before her mouth closed with an audible clack. He hadn't wanted to cut her off, but he really hadn't made his point yet. Then again, he didn't know why he was arguing with someone who could ship him off to the dungeons and have him tortured to death, or someone who didn't know him from Jack.

"Please do," she muttered, obviously trying to be courteous.

"I meant that you're the king, so you have a lot more things to worry about than the living conditions of every single low-level servant who works for you."

"As a king, I am responsible for every person within my kingdom, even for something as simple as blankets."

"Sure, _you_ might think so, but I'm pretty sure that your knights or the people who directly report to you don't think that it's worth your time."

Her eyes still narrowed, King Arthur continued to glare at him as her breath slowly eased out of her mouth while she considered his words. It was true that she knew nothing about her own servants unless Dylan or any of her other correspondents told her. It was also true that word of their living conditions never reached her ears, and she had more than likely assumed that no news was good news. However, in the event that the redhead was telling the truth, then it was a reality that she needed to face and rectify, if that was in her power. A larger torch might solve the heat issue and as far as the blankets went... Perhaps she could request tailors and seamstresses within the city to make thicker blankets? No, but then there was the issue of where the materials would come from, and the goods Camelot had received were fewer than originally requested, so it might be far more taxing to request enough blankets to keep every single servant warm...

She shook her head to clear her thoughts. There was little point in thinking of every single negative to the extent that it would deter her from acting in the first place.

"Very well," the once and future king conceded. "Providing your words are correct, what is it you would have me do about it? I doubt it need be said that right now, Camelot is in a dire position, due in no small part to Mother Nature, herself."

Shirou's eyes widened slightly as he blinked once. "Wait, you're asking _me_?"

King Arthur frowned, an eyebrow raised. "I would like to inquire as to who else you –"

"_RO!_ Ro, stop wasting my time and get into the damn kitchen!"

She and Shirou immediately shifted their attention away from one another and instead towards the man walking towards them. With his short, black hair flowing back and forth gently with the cold breeze and his fierce brown eyes focused solely on Shirou, it looked exactly if he had stepped right out of a shampoo commercial. Baeddan walked up to the redhead and blonde smoothly and his left hand whipped out to grab Shirou by his tunic. Pulling Shirou as close as King Arthur had him a month prior, he whispered,

"You were supposed to report back as soon as you finished stacking the wine as my business with you is not yet finished." He glanced at the motionless king with a small grin, and continued: "Now, Ro, do you think yourself able to walk back on your own or shall I assist you in that endeavor?"

The king hadn't even felt her teeth clench together tightly when Baeddan grinned at her and repeated the exact words she had spoken to him before. Shirou wasn't sure what was going on or what was up with the random grin Baeddan made at the king, but any time he had to talk to the other man, he always felt his patience wear thin incredibly fast. Shirou grasped hold of the other man's wrist and gripped tightly enough to restrict the blood circulation.

"You didn't say a damn word about going back to the kitchen since I haven't actually seen you the entire fucking day. So, _back off_," Shirou said forcefully, calmly peeling off the other man's hand and pushing him back.

"Oh, I do love it when you fight back," Baeddan responded cheerfully, cracking his knuckles as he grinned. "It makes punishing you that much more satisfying."

Shirou backed up a few steps, ready to block any attack the Head Cook sent his way and as Baeddan's muscles tightened and he coiled back to spring forward, King Arthur cleared her throat once. Shirou flicked his gaze back to look at her, but when Baeddan chose to ignore her and volleyed straight toward Shirou, all the latter saw was a yellow streak as King Arthur first struck Baeddan's chest with her armored left hand. She then spun around, swept her right foot back behind one of his, hooked it tightly and slammed her right arm back into his chest, sending him flying backwards and crashing back onto the ground. Shirou edged away from her slightly as she peered down coolly at the cook.

"Unfortunately, Head Cook," she began, not missing a single beat, "he and I were already engaged in a conversation. I must sincerely ask that you wait your turn and I promise to return Shirou to you once my discussion with him is at an end."

She held out a hand to Baeddan who simply seemed exasperated with her. Shirou glanced around and couldn't say he was surprised to see several merchants and servants gaping at the king who had taken down the Head Cook within a single second. He let out a deep breath – she was scary as hell.

"He's _my_ servant!" Baeddan declared indignantly while swatting her hand aside.

"And you are mine," she informed him. "Your point would be?"

"What need would you have to speak with a peasant servant like him?" the cook asked, standing up and brushing himself off. "It would make more sense for someone of your stature to converse with someone with actual intelligence."

"Fuck off," muttered Shirou.

"As soon as you die, peasant," Baeddan returned happily.

King Arthur narrowed her eyes at Baeddan this time. "I was simply questioning him about the living conditions of the lower-ranked servants, and he apprised me of details I was not aware of."

"Such as?"

"Like shredded blankets," intervened Shirou. "No warmth. Ice-cold prisons. An increased inability to sleep thanks to all of the above."

Baeddan snorted as he turned to the king. "And you were unaware of this much? What kind of king are you?"

The muscle in her jaw jumped as she gritted her teeth, and her fists automatically clenched tightly.

"No, I had not been aware," she said, taking care to be as polite as she possibly could. "And though I am quite loathe to admit it, there is much I am unaware of within my own castle. That is the reason I sought to speak with him. In doing so, I might be able to rectify the situation."

The Head Cook frowned slightly. "You came all the way over here just to find out about how some peasants are functioning?"

"They are an integral part of the castle," she said slowly, instinctively feeling something shift within the atmospheric mood, but unsure as to exactly what. "If it is within my power to better their lives, even if by only a bit, then I will do my utmost to ensure that happens."

Shirou looked at her pointedly. "It's not _that_ big a deal. You don't have to worry that much about things that don't directly correlate to you."

"Hmph," she huffed, glaring at him again. "Nothing would ever be completed if everything needed to directly correlate with me, you realize. Satisfied servants make for a content castle, which in turn makes for a wholesome life. Take care to remember that."

"...Right. I'll just mark that in my schedule somewhere. No promises, though."

She was about to chastise him again when Baeddan held up a hand for her attention. King Arthur turned back to the other Briton, feeling slightly confused but ready to hear whatever it was he had to say.

"If you found out that information, would you see that it was taken care of?"

The king's eyebrows raised somewhat. "To the best of my ability."

Baeddan sighed. "The servants' quarters all require new sleeping cots and heavier blankets as most of the warmth is steered towards the west, north, and main wings. As the shutters are all worn down, they need to be replaced with either new wooden ones, or something of iron and steel to better restrict the amount of wind that flows into the room. Ideally, each room should be equipped with miniature hearths, but considering the cost and material restrictions for such an event, every room should at least have a few torches or some way of trapping heat.

"Every door leading to the corridor is also less than acceptable, as any heat will immediately be lost due to the poor condition of the wood. Might I suggest oak or redwood? Each servant should also be dressed with cloth suitable for winter conditions, or be given some sort of heavy material with which to move around in. Access to running water outside of the kitchen, but inside the castle itself, would also be incredibly preferable, or perhaps a communal toilet facility for the servants, so they would not have to venture outside to relieve themselves. More than anything else, I would suggest focusing on the shutters, blankets, and cots."

King Arthur and Shirou's eyes grew wide with disbelief and the latter slowly turned to look over at the former. She was still staring at Baeddan as if she had just lived through a dream, but eventually turned her attention over to make eye contact with Shirou, who was standing a couple of paces away from her. They looked at one another for a moment before simultaneously once again facing the Head Cook standing in front of them.

Baeddan shook his head slightly before focusing on King Arthur again.

"Now, king, have I answered your question well enough?"

An indescribable expression crossed the blonde's face and she answered slowly, "Yes, you have."

There was a slight pause and then a, "Thank you", with some incredulity unraveling itself in her voice.

"Feel free to come by and ask again anytime should you forget, Your Highness," Baeddan said as he attempted to grab Shirou by his tunic again.

Shirou evaded his grasp, eyes squinted softly. "Don't touch me. I can get there on my own."

"See that you do, peasant."

The redhead merely ignored him and glanced back at the king who was still standing ramrod still. She must have felt his gaze upon her but was slow to look back at him. Shirou smiled a toothy grin at her.

"That shocked look suits you," he said as he waved and then turned and headed for the east wing after Baeddan.

King Arthur froze after his compliment – could that truly be counted as one? – but slowly exhaled and placed her hands on her hips. She watched him walk away with a somewhat thoughtful facial expression and tilted her head slightly. Letting her gaze drop a bit, the king felt her exhaustion hit her slightly now that the two distractions were gone, but was quick to force herself back into a state of alertness.

"Blankets," she murmured, turning around and walking back towards the opposite end of the grounds. "Blankets, cots, shutters... Blankets, cots, shutters..."

* * *

><p>Shirou hefted himself up to sit on one of the cutting tables while Zago contented himself with sitting on a stool next to the redhead. Shirou scratched the back of his head and turned to look at the other man.<p>

"So, what's all of this about anyway?"

"Fuck all if I know," Zago replied, obviously not caring one way or another. "Maybe he's here to fire us all and send us packing to some other castle."

"Then who would he boss around?"

Zago snapped his fingers and swiveled to look at Shirou. "Fuck me! You're right! That fucker definitely needs us around. Hey, maybe we're going to get a bunch of benefits, and more food! And sleep! God _damn_, I need me some serious sleep, brother."

Eos, who was standing behind them on the other side of the table, passed the platinum-blond a frown, although he couldn't see it. She seemed almost bored as she leaned on the table, as if she wasn't sure if she should even bother pointing out the ludicrousness of such a thought. She flicked her gaze up to look at Shirou, who in turn, passed her a helpless smile. There was little point in scolding the other man for his incredible dreams and delusions, but if she didn't, then he would remain on a power trip for the rest of his life. When Shirou just shrugged, Eos let out a soft sigh.

"I can think of more useful people Baeddan might need as opposed to a slacker such as yourself, Dagobert. If there were benefits to be earned, I would think those would go to people who actually do the work they are hired to do."

"Don't patronize me, woman. You're just jealous because I have skills you could never _dream_ of having."

She was spared from commenting on that matter when Baeddan breezed into the kitchen, his facial expression displaying annoyance and frustration. Shirou, Zago, Eos, and all the rest of the one hundred or so members of the kitchen each straightened up a bit when their boss walked to the area nearest the hearths. Every servant had been waiting for about ten to twenty minutes after being ordered to attend a meeting of great importance within the main kitchen. With how serious Baeddan looked, it didn't seem like they were there for shits and giggles.

"I am appreciative that you all could make it here," Baeddan began, seeming somewhat sincere.

He gave his audience a sweeping glance before noticing that Shirou was sitting on top of one of the cutting tables. Frowning, he growled out,

"Get down from there. That table is worth more than your life ever will."

"Bite me," came the response.

The room grew incredibly quite as some members turned to look at Shirou for his clear show of insubordination, and the others peered over at Baeddan as the man only smirked. Baeddan glared at Shirou who blatantly ignored him and didn't budge from his spot on the table. Eos rose up to her full height as she glanced back and forth at both of the men, wondering if she would need to intervene. The tension in the room continued growing thicker as neither man backed down before Baeddan eventually let out a soft, evil chuckle and turned his attention away from the redhead.

"I have very important news for you today," he continued in a clear voice.

Zago's jaw fell slightly when Baeddan backed down – that was something he had never seen before. That damn cook never backed down from any challenge, and yet he let Shirou win that fight? Turning to Shirou, he nudged the foreigner hard.

"He let you go! He never lets anyone do what they want, the fucking prick. You ass. How the hell did you manage that?"

Shirou grunted softly. "That's because I do all of the impossible crap he asks me to do without complaint now. I got tired of him badgering me, and worked really damn hard to get to a better level."

The blond glared. "Fuck working hard and fuck you, man."

Shirou just grinned.

Ever since the day he had utterly failed at that first cooking task, Shirou had worked day in and day out to better his cutting skills. In the future, he had had various tools to work with to quickly get jobs done, and although it wasn't as if Shirou couldn't peel, cut, and slice carrots as if he had never made the attempt before, the process seemed different. It was the same action he had done for years and years in his own kitchen, but the second he had tried to do it in Camelot, he had flubbed on the process. Things that would take him all of ten seconds in the future took double or even triple that at present. Eventually, Shirou had grown so annoyed with himself that he'd stolen a knife discretely and some vegetables just so he could practice by himself. He had practiced late at night when Zago had long since fallen asleep.

Shirou had quickly realized that it was not simply due to the shock of being in a new place and using different materials that had thrown him for a loop, but the fact that the knives were not only dull, but oddly serrated. Rather, the serration of the knives wasn't too, too odd, but the serrated edges were too haphazard and strangely placed. The knives obviously hadn't been cared for in the least, which was weird considering what age it was. There were blacksmiths aplenty in this time period, but no one thought to get the knives rounded and sharpened? He realized there were more important matters than worrying about a bunch of kitchen knives, but he was surprised the people could do anything with the tools given them.

Of course, Shirou had realized with much grimacing, the cuts most of the servants made in the kitchen were neither exact nor precise. It wasn't all that uncommon to see oddly shaped cuts show up in the soups – nothing was evenly sliced, nothing was made with all the finesse of expert chefs, and nothing was presented nicely like Shirou was used to. He was far from being OCD, but he did appreciate decent aesthetic placements and distributions of the food. Most of what he had seen in this time period were things that were put together because, why not? It was this kind of attitude Shirou had faced when looking at soups with huge and small pieces of vegetables popping up and random bits of meat – mostly fat since these people didn't know what to do with a good piece of meat – spiraling around in the disgusting-looking depths of the brews. Saber's reactions to his food in the future had started to make so much more sense with every minute he had worked in that kitchen.

Determined to bring the aesthetic taste of the future to the people of this age, he'd worked on different techniques that could employ the full use of the horrible knives. Initially, he had simply relearned how to cut correctly and quickly, though it had only take him a couple of days to get back to his normal speed. Two hundred carrots within half an hour was pushing it, but he normally managed about thirty-five to forty minutes on average, peeling and cutting both included. When Baeddan had found out about his "newfound" skill, he had been "upgraded" to potatoes, and then cabbage, and then pretty much every vegetable came to be in his arsenal, so to speak. It had actually taken him approximately a few weeks to get that far along, but Baeddan no longer bothered him as much. After all, no other servant had excelled at the art of cooking as much as he.

Only the week before, – and what with the snow, there had been little else to do – he had devised new cutting styles and started julienning the carrots, or putting wave designs in each piece. He often did this with leftover carrots, rejects, or molded, inedible pieces. Surprisingly, there were a lot of moldy pieces in the pantry and holding areas – so many that he had just wanted to clean everything out (the place was huge) right there and then, but Shirou had neither the time nor the desire to be placed on the cleaning crew. In either case, Baeddan didn't have much to bug Shirou over nowadays, so Shirou just did as he wanted. He was the only one who had earned his place in just a month, after all.

"It is unfortunate," Baeddan said, his eyes narrowed, "but after taking an inventory of the supplies we have been given, I have come to understand that our currently available stock pales in comparison to what we were due. As you have more than likely noticed, portion sizes for each meal service have shrunken and we need to be more selective with how we serve henceforth. As such, it is with my deepest regrets that I must ask all of you to only partake in meals once a day."

There was an immediate uproar in the kitchen. Once a day? The servants do all the work, so how could they ever sustain themselves with just that much? They were already eating the bare minimum! Why not make it so the _soldiers_ had to eat less and make it more even?

A muscle in Baeddan's jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth, but he held up his hands to calm the crowd.

"I know," he agreed, looking completely serious. "And for once, and without any sarcasm, I wholly agree. However, this is an order directly from the king himself, and unfortunately for everyone, I rather enjoy being alive."

"How does the king expect us to keep working if we're not going to get any food?" cried out Zago angrily. "Go tell His Majesty to shove that order up his ass!"

"Hmph," muttered Baeddan. "You're more than welcome to do so yourself. I am most certain no one would ever realize you had ever disappeared one way or another."

Zago promptly shut his mouth, though not without looking very disgruntled as he angrily crossed his arms over his chest. Shirou was somewhat surprised by the supposed order as well – that didn't seem like King Arthur's style. Of course, Shirou had no real idea of what the woman was like before her life as a Servant, but he knew with absolute certainty that she wasn't the type to throw her people under a bus and expect them to still perform as expected. He took in a deep breath as Zago continued to steam quietly and Eos stayed silent.

Baeddan shook his head slightly. While none of the servants had chosen to say anything after Zago's outburst and Baeddan's obvious warning, they were all, for the most part, very incensed and upset. He, too, was quite dismayed by the whole situation, but was more annoyed by the fact that the orders had not come directly from the king himself, but from one of his follow-ups. That meant the king was either a coward and could not make such an order and see to the repercussions himself, or that someone else in the shadows was extorting the king's power for himself, or herself, even. Well, there was nothing he could do about it at that very moment regardless.

"I have more unfortunate news for all of you," he said loudly, quickly gaining everyone's attention. What could be worse than what he'd already told them?

"Due to the incessant snow that does not seem to know when enough is enough, a great deal of our soldiers who would otherwise be sleeping during the day for the night shift are instead being drafted for morning and afternoon patrols as the snow would provide adequate cover overnight for any enemies who would try to take the castle."

"I thought we were in a time of peace," muttered one servant. "Besides, that snow is as high as our waists, at least. What stupid Saxon would try raging war in such conditions?"

Another servant shook his head. "You fool, so long as Britain is still broken, 'peace' is a word we'll never understand."

"In any case," Baeddan said, clearing his throat and taking the floor again, "because of the increased sentry, many of you have been moved around accordingly to match the overall pace of the more hectic shifts. However, this leaves me with another problem: I am lacking for people to work the night time slot. I do realize that with the shortage of food and increased business that I am asking quite a bit from all of you, so, for the moment, I will only ask for volunteers."

Many people seemed disgusted that he would even suggest they bother. When no one offered to volunteer whatsoever, the Head Cook's mouth firmed as he frowned.

"I am willing to offer further incentives for those who do volunteer."

Again, there was nothing but silence in the kitchen.

"If no one deigns to volunteer, I promise that I will put every single one of you on the night shift whether you like it or not, and you will still only be given one meal a day despite that. You will also receive no particular benefits, and I will not hear a word of complaint when you're 'tired' or feel you are unable to work further. Then, when it comes to that, I will only be too happy to kick you out of this castle and let you freeze to death in the bitter cold."

That particular confession resulted in several murmurs amongst the staff, and Shirou definitely heard a few whispers of death threats and complaints. One glance at Zago told him he was not at all amused with the idea of working even more and gaining far less along the way. Eos, on the other hand, looked incredibly troubled. She obviously wanted to help out, but there seemed to be something holding her back from raising a hand to volunteer. She looked somewhat conspicuous as she attempted not to make eye contact with Baeddan.

One look at the other servants told Shirou that no one was any more interested than anyone else in taking on more hours, and he could tell that the Head Cook was growing increasingly impatient and annoyed. At this rate, the man was going to punish every single person who was unlucky enough to either get in his way or make eye contact with him. Then again, Shirou had no desire to push himself any more than necessary, but there was a chance that... Sighing, he raised his hand.

"I'll volunteer."

All murmurs and mutterings came to an immediate halt as Shirou jumped off of the table and stood at his full height; even if he hadn't grown more after high school (and he had, by a good ten centimeters), he still would have stood tall well over most of the other men in the spacious room. With his height and auburn hair, he was fairly easy to see even through the large crowd, and Baeddan fixed him with an ascertaining stare.

"You?"

"Yeah, me. I don't exactly see people jumping up and down to help out, so I will."

Baeddan bit the inside of cheek before turning away to the crowd. "Anyone else?"

Shirou may have worked within the same room as the other staff, but they were still very opposed to trusting anything he did. It did not matter that the king had given his blessing, nor did it matter that he was very good at whatever job he was given. He still looked suspicious to the castle populace, and nothing would solve that save for time and patience on his part. Luckily for him, Zago, Eos, and not even Baeddan really cared much about his genealogy or lineage. Being Japanese, he could understand that underlying fear of someone new or different, and that need for wariness when being put together with someone like that. Having lived in England for a few years though, helped him to appreciate the other side of that particular relationship, and so he was very happy to have somehow made friends who didn't care about where he was from, but just who he was. Now, with that in mind...

Shirou smiled, gripped a hold of Zago's arm, who was too surprised to protest, and pulled him to the front of the crowd.

"And...Zago's going to help me out."

"I'm what?" exclaimed the lackadaisical man. "Uh, no, I'm not!"

"It'll be a blast," coaxed Shirou, nudging the other a bit. "And hey, think about the benefits."

"Fuck you, you traitorous –"

"He'll be more than happy to work together with me," Shirou said with a grin as he clamped a hand over Zago's mouth.

Baeddan merely tilted his chin up and met Shirou's gaze knowingly. He didn't try to refute what Shirou had said, but only seemed to be amused.

"Very well," he conceded with a whisper of a smirk. "With these two, and the volume of people who are actually guaranteed to visit us at midnight, there should be enough minor staff. After all, Shirou is worth five of the rest of you. Now, I need someone of the Upper Echelons to take part. Eos?"

Eos paled slightly. She really was the obvious choice, having always been around the two aforementioned men and constantly taken care of them. Honestly, she really did want to help, but other larger and far more important duties to her took precedence. Eos, however, was very poor at turning down invites and she really couldn't say why she had to turn down the offer either. It was very difficult for her to turn Baeddan down, though, as she had never once participated in any night shifts, despite every other Upper Echelon member having done so.

Zago grunted softly. "I'm demanding my benefits up front as a guarantee to my service to you."

Baeddan's eyebrows raised slightly. Zago volunteering to work as hard as he could? That was a rarity in and of itself.

"And what is it you are demanding?"

"Eos never takes a night shift for as long as I work here."

"You are asking far too much considering how _invaluable_ you are."

Zago growled slightly and glanced back at Eos briefly, and she looked at him, concern written all over her face. Shirou noticed them pass glances at one another and had to admit he was curious. Zago wasn't a man who gave much of himself for the sake of other people, and yet he had done exactly that for Eos. While that was interesting enough to him, he really had to wonder why Eos seemed so against staying for the night shift, especially when she was always so willing to help out no matter what the cost at every other service. Zago seemed rather frustrated himself, which also seemed somewhat odd. Okay, whatever.

Shirou placed his hands on his hips as he let his head fall briefly before he looked back up at Baeddan.

"Okay," he started slowly, causing Zago, Baeddan, and Eos to look at him, while most of the staff didn't bother to listen – it no longer had anything to do with them anyway. "Then, for as long as _I_ work here, Eos won't ever have to take a night shift. That's _my_ demand."

Baeddan nodded curtly. "Granted. I will overlook her inability to work as a normal servant. You have proved your worth, Ro. If you slack off, though, I guarantee that you are finished here."

"Yeah, I think you say that at least once a day."

"I simply look forward to seeing you fail," Baeddan said with a small, malicious chuckle. Then, to the rest of the crowd: "I still require the services of other Upper Echelons. Who is available?"

Eos caught Shirou's eyes, looking flustered and somewhat lost. He held eye contact with her for a brief moment before turning away. He'd find time to talk to her later – it wasn't altogether important at that very moment. Shirou turned back to look at the main mass of people who split open a pathway as a gorgeous woman with flowing raven-black tresses and silver-blue eyes and a thin, scrawny man with raggedy sandy-brown hair and hazel-yellow eyes came walking forward. While the latter scowled at any person dumb enough to stand enough to him, the woman gave Baeddan a blinding smile.

"Dai and I will assist with the night service, Baeddan. You may rest with ease."

Baeddan slowly closed his eyes once and then looked back up at the woman.

"Telyn," he said as coldly as usual. "Dai. With you two working, I suppose everything will run smoothly enough. See that you keep those two ignoramuses on track, would you?"

Telyn continued smiling. "Of course, Baeddan. Never have we done you wrong, and I promise you we never will."

She turned to shine her smile on Shirou next. "Shirou, I believe this is the first time we have met. I have heard much about you. It will be a pleasure to work alongside of you."

Shirou didn't say anything in return as there wasn't much he _could_ say. This was the pair Zago had warned him about before, but this was the first time he had met them face to face. They certainly _seemed_ nice (well, Telyn did, at least), but he'd made that mistake before. Rin had warned him about Myrus and then he'd landed in that trap. So, if Zago was warning him about these two, he was going to pay attention for once. Shirou nodded once at her to be polite but did nothing more than that.

Telyn didn't seem to take offense to Shirou's lack of warmth and ran a hand through her hair. If nothing else, Shirou could definitely recognize her beauty and thought it to be nearly on par with Rin, but she still had nothing on Saber. He looked at Baeddan, but the other man just clapped his hands together.

"All right. Telyn, Dai, Ro, Zagobel –"

"It's Dagobert, you fucking pansy of an asshole."

"– you four take the evening service off. Get your bearings straight, and I expect to see you again tonight. Eos, I want you to make certain those two slackers are on board with what needs to be done. And Eos, be grateful to the foreigner. He has saved you from my wrath. As for the rest of you fools, get to work. Breaks go to those who earn it, and none of you are worth giving even a single second of peace to. Move it!"

As soon as they were dismissed, Zago was very quick to grab Shirou's arm and drag him out of the kitchen and down the hall with Eos following behind, eyes darkened. Shirou protested along the way, but didn't want to hurt Zago in trying to escape, so let the blond continue leading him forward. He looked back at Eos, but she wouldn't meet his eyes this time around. In fact, he was almost afraid to know what was going on when they all made it back to his and Zago's room and Zago pitched him forward into the room. Shirou stumbled a few steps and turned around only for Zago to push him back onto his cot.

"Why did you do that?" Zago yelled at Shirou, looking irate.

Shirou looked back at him and tilted his head slightly. "Uh, you mean signing you up without your permission? I would think you'd be happy – it's a slow shift and –"

"No, you dumbass! Why did you sign away your privileges like that? This has fucking _nothing_ to do with you."

"I was _trying_ to be helpful," Shirou said, growing angry himself. "You seemed really upset that Baeddan wouldn't give you what you wanted, and since I knew I had more room to work with than you, I just went for it. What's the problem?"

Zago walked up to him and pulled him up by the collar of his tunic. The fact that Shirou had a good few centimeters over the blond didn't seem to matter to him.

"You don't have a clue, do you? You're just –"

"Then tell me what I'm not getting!" yelled Shirou, throwing off Zago's hands. "I'm not some damn telepath! I need words just like anyone else, Zago!"

Zago reached for Shirou's collar again but stopped when Eos came forward and set a hand down gently on his shoulder. Zago gritted his teeth when Eos simply looked at him reassuringly, but did not attempt any further violence. Shirou adjusted his tunic and continued glaring at the blond – he didn't know what was going on, but he didn't think he deserved to be yelled at for just trying to help.

Eos took in a deep breath. "He needs to be told, Zago."

"What?" cried Zago with disbelief. "He's barely been here a month! He might run off and talk to the wrong people!"

"Now, you should know Shirou better than that, Zago," she admonished. "I realize we have only known him for a short time, but do you honestly believe he would mean anyone any harm, much less the two of us?"

Zago fell silent, unable to refute her words. Eos smiled gently, appreciating the other man's fierce desire to protect her but also knowing that she now owed a favor to Shirou that she was not certain she could actually repay. Turning back to the redhead who stared up at her with his golden-brown eyes full of frustration and confusion, she let out a soft sigh and cupped her hands together.

"Shirou," she began, gaining his full attention. "If I may, I would beg your pardon for Zago's actions. He truly meant well, and the secret I harbor is great, indeed. To be truthful, I am filled with trepidation that I need say it to anyone else."

Shirou frowned slightly. "Then don't tell me. I'm not the type to run around blabbing about stuff, but if you're really so worried about it, then don't bother."

"No, Shirou," Eos disagreed, shaking her head a bit. "No, you have done me a service I may never be able to reciprocate, and I feel you must hear the reason as to why Zago is so distraught."

She wringed her hands slightly, Shirou watching all the while, and finally held her head up high again.

"Shirou, I am married, with two children. Boys, the both of them; one is five and the other, two."

Was it all that big a deal for people to be married in this age? That didn't seem to be a big deal.

"They live with my parents in the city, and each night, I leave this castle to spend my evenings with them and as much time as I am able. Normally, a woman would stay home with her children, but I work here to maintain a cover so that my husband may continue forth without concern. I do not desire to take the night shift because then I may never have the opportunity to see my two sons while they are growing again. I would not like to take that chance."

Shirou rubbed the back of his head. "I'm not following. Why is this such a big deal?"

Eos bit her bottom lip with unusual hesitation. "If the king comes to hear of our matrimony, the children will be forced into tutelage, regardless of whether my husband I desire it or not. It is part of the custom, you see. The king, even if in disaccord with the rule, must follow it as is expected of him. My husband and I simply desire for our children to decide their own future, though we do not have much time left to give the oldest that choice. Alas, if only we were born with daughters instead of sons, I would not need worry about their plight until they were of age to marry."

He wasn't sure he was following yet. Shirou also wasn't sure if this was just normal for the sixth century and he was just missing something, or if this was just something Eos was prone to doing. Eos saw that he wasn't catching on and cleared her throat slightly.

"Shirou, have you heard of the man named Gawain?"

It kind of rang a bell. Gawain... Gawain...

Suddenly, it clicked. Shirou jumped to his feet, completely thrown for a loop.

"You're telling me you're married to one of the Knights of the Round Table? _The_ Gawain? The one who serves the king directly? _You're_ married to _him_?"

All of a sudden, everything started making sense. If Gawain was a knight, then he was of some kind of high-class blood, and it only held true that his sons should go through the same training as people of nobility would. Sons of knights were often forcefully put through training from a young age until they were accepted as pages around when they turned six or seven. However, if the king didn't know about the children or lineage, then it would only go to show the kids would be allowed to live a freer existence and the chances of them possibly falling in battle or worse were next to nil. So, Eos was working in the castle, so Gawain would have some sort of link to the sons he probably couldn't see on a normal basis, and no one was any the wiser because they didn't seem like a normal wedded pair.

Shirou ran a hand through his hair as he thought of the possible repercussions that could come of that information hearing the wrong ears. He knew without a doubt, or rather, he instinctively felt that King Arthur would be overjoyed for Gawain to have two children of his own to care for, but also believed that she would follow the rules as expected and force them into the special education to prepare them for possibly becoming knights. If she could keep it disclosed, that would be one thing, but if anyone caught wind of it, even she could get into serious trouble for concealing investments from the rest of her court.

He sighed softly. "I get it now."

Eos continued looking worried, her hands wringing more and more quickly. "Shirou, would you do me the honor of keeping such a secret from others? Of course, if you would will it, I cannot stop you should you desire to tell the king, but if at all possible..."

For a moment, he had wondered why she'd told him at all, but he realized with a start that she really wanted to trust him. After being in the castle for only a month, he had come to understand that people were more difficult to trust in this time period. People never knew who might be plotting against them or who might truly be their friends, and so whatever friends a person managed to gain, they held on tightly and almost religiously.

"I'm not telling anyone," Shirou declared with finality. "Thanks for telling me. I'll protect your secret. I'll make sure to keep working hard so that you won't have to worry."

"Oh, I, uh," began Eos, unsure of what to say. "Th-thank you... If there is any way that I can repay you...?"

"Yeah, there is," he said, and Eos stood up straight, slightly nervous as to what he would demand of her. Shirou grinned and said, "Just make sure to introduce me to the two kids when you get the chance. Any children of yours have got to be amazing."

She blinked once as if unsure of what she had heard before melting into a warm smile. "Of course, Shirou! It would be my pleasure!"

Shirou continued grinning and laughed when Eos leaned in to give him a gentle hug. Zago shifted his head from side to side to pop his neck. He looked slightly abashed for his behavior earlier, but uncertain of how to go about apologizing. Shirou only walked up to him and patted him on the shoulder.

"No offense taken, Zago. Don't sweat it."

Zago made a shy grin. "Sorry, Shirou. I should've trusted you. I've known Eos for a while now and I only found out about her secret by accident. I kept thinking she would be dragged off to the dungeons for weeks afterward. I mean, if _I'd_ found out, who knows who else might've known, you know?"

"I hear you. No worries," Shirou said. "So, Eos, tell us about how this night thing works."

Eos gave Zago a pointed look, but smiled again at Shirou. "With pleasure."

* * *

><p>The night shift began without too much difficulty, but it ran incredibly slow. There weren't too many soldiers rotating in and out and Shirou and Zago were normally left to their own devices. Shirou had long since cut enough vegetables and was simply trying to find something to amuse himself with. Zago, on the other hand, had long since grown tired of being static, but since he couldn't find a chance to run away and sleep, he simply busied himself with complaining to Shirou.<p>

"This fucking sucks. I'm so goddamn bored here, man. Plus, that crazy shit Dai keeps looking over at me like I'm some piece of jerky read for him to bite into."

"I honestly don't think it's you he wants to devour," muttered Shirou as Dai continued to glower at him from a corner on the other side of the room.

The man had been glaring at him fiercely since the shift had first begun, not even bothering to help Telyn with any preparations whatsoever, and instead choosing to keep an eye on the redhead instead. Telyn had been welcoming enough – she'd told him to continue cutting as he had been while she tended to the meat and the soups. Once Shirou had finished, she had asked for him to wait patiently as she called in a couple of servants to take in the food to the Great Hall. Zago, for his part, had actually cleaned up everything, but there was only so much soot a person could clear away. Luckily, they weren't using the ovens for anything at that moment, so Zago had been given a bit of a reprieve himself.

Dai scowled even further when Telyn walked away from the hearths and towards Shirou.

"Hello there, Shirou. We have not had much of a chance to speak prior to this day. Allow me to introduce myself properly: my name is Telyn, daughter of Cadell Heir, of the kingdom of Lyonesse. Here is to a hopefully wonderful new friendship."

"Right," he started, almost feeling like he'd be rude if he didn't introduce himself just as formally. "I'm Em-, ah, no, sorry. I'm Shirou Emiya of...the...great, uh, empire of Fuyuki to the far east..."

"Fuyuki," Telyn murmured with wonder. "I have never heard of such a place. And, for you to have a surname... You must be someone of noble descent. What would you be doing in Camelot, so far away from home?"

The redhead popped his neck by shifting his head from side to side a few times. "Uh, well, things happened, and so, now I'm here."

The woman only smiled. "I see. It was rude of me to inquire – we all have our secrets, after all. In any case, I did not come here merely to share names with one another. Dai and I will be taking our meals, and we would like for the two of you to continue tending to the soups and slabs of meat."

"What about us? When do we get to eat?" Zago asked, eyes narrowed.

Telyn hesitated slightly before pointing at the waste pile sitting in a keg on the far side of the room.

"You are more than welcome to see what you can find for consumption in that barrel. I do not have the authority to allow you to eat together with us in the Hall. I only hope that you will be satisfied with that much."

Zago stared at Telyn, his mouth once again agape as he attempted to register her words. He looked over at Shirou, who didn't seem very pleased, before looking at Dai, who was simply smirking.

"_What?_" shrieked Zago. "Are you fucking out of your mind, lady? You want us to dig for scraps? What the fuck are we, fucking rats? _You_ go fucking dig out some scraps, you fucking bitch! I want fucking _real_ food you pissant!"

The prim and proper woman could do nothing but frown. "I sincerely apologize, Dagobert, but I am not at liberty to give you that opportunity. I honestly wish I could. Ah, but if you feel so inclined, you are more than welcome to help yourselves to the seasonings and cutlery we have available. That is the best I can offer you."

"Fuck that shit! We're not some goddamn dogs or rats! We –"

_Danger!_

There was a sudden sense of imbalance that Shirou couldn't quite pinpoint – he hadn't felt like that for such a long time, after all. Maybe it was the man's eyes, or maybe it was the shing of the knife as the man picked it up, or perhaps it might have been Zago's eyes as they widened upon immediately seeing his oncoming doom. Whatever the cause was, Shirou felt his body move far before his mind could catch up.

_Danger!_

From the moment Dai began rushing forward and grabbed a chopping knife off of a nearby table, Shirou felt time slow down as danger alerted his brain and endorphins flooded his body. Telyn shouted for Dai to stop but to no avail as the brunette sped forward. Shirou slid in right in front of Zago, grabbed Dai's left wrist firmly to halt the movement of the knife, and lowered his center of gravity while letting Dai ram into his shoulder instead. Instinctively wrapping his own left arm around Dai's waist, Shirou made sure the other man wouldn't be able to move anywhere.

_Averted._

His heart pounding hard within his chest, Shirou couldn't believe he'd managed that burst of speed. Considering how long it had been since he had really pushed himself with his training, that should have been nothing short of miraculous. Zago, Telyn, and Dai especially, stared at Shirou as he somehow appeared right in front of the other lower level kitchen servant. Breathing out a deep sigh full of disbelief, Shirou came to his senses and gingerly let go of Dai's wrist. The latter stared at the ring of red around his wrist from the tightness of the grip and glared even more deeply at the absent-minded redhead. He raised his right hand and backhanded the other man across the face. Shirou never saw it coming and stumbled back a bit, his eyes wide.

Dai scowled when he saw that the quick movements earlier must have been a fluke and felt himself relax slightly. If the redhead had actually been capable of things like that, Dai would have surely had his hands full. He turned and pointed the knife at Zago and clipped out,

"Next time, you die."

Then, glowering again at Shirou, he growled, "Touch me again, and you're done, carrot-top."

Shirou glared back as he rubbed his stinging cheek. Dai shoved past him, although Telyn didn't make to follow him until after she said to Shirou,

"Thank you for stopping him, Shirou," she whispered softly, so that Dai wouldn't hear her words. "It is thanks to you that that disaster was stopped in its tracks. Now that I think of it, I do not believe we will need that smaller slab of meat. You are welcome to use it as you wish in exchange, so long as no one catches wind of this deal."

"Thanks," Shirou muttered as Telyn turned and walked away, following after Dai.

Zago came to Shirou's side and grimaced a little. "That was a close call."

"Yeah."

"Oh yeah," Zago exclaimed, lightly rapping Shirou on his chest. "Where the hell did you come up with moves like those? You looked like a knight sweeping in for the final blow! Oh, I get it! You must have been some kind of knight or warrior back where you're from!"

Shirou shook his head slightly as he walked away from Zago and toward the hearths. "Not exactly, but I played the part of one. Not sure what I count as now."

Zago asked what he was doing when Shirou picked up the smallest meat slab off of its stick and carried it back to a cutting table. Shirou ignored him and went to the bin of scraps next for odds and ends of random vegetables here and there. After picking out some pieces with Zago questioning every single action along the way, Shirou laid all of the ingredients on the table and then began cutting a triangle lengthwise across the meat and taking it out. The beef was still fairly rare on the inside, but that would be fine for what he wanted to do. Directing Zago to hand him some butter, Shirou was quick to dip out a good bit into his hand and slather it across the meat. He then sprinkled the odds and ends of the vegetables he had found all over the butter and then fit the wedge of meat back on.

It was a crude version of the beef roll, but he doubted that Zago would really care all that much. His hands still covered in butter and the juice from the meat, Shirou then asked his friend to bring over the salt and pepper and to just spritz his left hand with the former and to cover his left with the latter. He would have liked to wrap the meat in foil and toss it into the fire directly, but didn't want to project the necessary foil in front of Zago. He also would have liked to create a nice sauce or glaze to go over the meat, but it was better to just fix the meal as quickly as he could so that no one would find out that they were eating something normally forbidden to them. It really was a small slab of meat, too – barely big enough for the both of them to be satisfied. However, meat was meat, and was far better than digging around more in the trash.

Zago frowned at the meat the entire time as Shirou put the meat on a metal plate and held it directly over the fire with tongs. It wouldn't take long for meat to cook – Shirou was more worried about the vegetables cooking properly. Well, they were practically basking in a beef oven, so maybe it would be stranger for them not to cook as they should. With Zago turning the meat around every five minutes or so, Shirou found himself with nothing better to do but try to ignore the former's endless questions.

"You can cook? No way. You can't cook, right? You could barely cut vegetables a month ago. You're shitting me."

The longer Shirou ignored him, the more curious Zago became.

"Why would you butter the meat? Butter is meant for other stuff, like bread. Who puts butter on meat? Why did you put those vegetables on there? Are you as much of a dumb shit as Baeddan?"

When Shirou deemed the meat to be finished cooking, he gripped the tongs tightly and moved the plate back over to a table. They didn't have much time until Telyn and Dai would return, so he had to make this quick. Zago kept popping up around him, attempting to peer around as Shirou cut into the slab. Meh, the meat was still a bit pink, but that was doable and oh, the carrots were actually cooked okay enough. Grand. He cut off one more round and handed the roll to his very annoying, but well-meaning, friend.

"Take this and shut up, would you?" Shirou muttered as he took a bite into the roll. Fuck, it needed more salt. Oh well.

While Shirou wasn't particularly impressed – he had made it as quickly as he could, all things considered, Zago seemed mystified. He had taken one bite and then another, and then eventually swallowed the entire thing.

"You can cook," he kept repeating as he cut off two more rolls for himself, and left the last two rolls for Shirou. "This shit is amazing. You can fucking cook. You can seriously fucking cook."

Zago licked his fingers to finish off all of the juices and then licked his lips for a last taste. Shirou, still grumbling on how much better it would have been if he'd been allowed more time to cook the meat slowly and with a better menu, was taken by surprise when Zago gripped both of his arms with the feel of a maniacal man about him.

"Shirou! That's it! You can cook!"

"Uh...that's debatable," he said, unable to agree because of the horrible dish.

"No, no, you don't get it. You took nothing and made it into something. Wait... I think I've got it!"

Zago snapped his fingers, but Shirou merely tilted his head.

"Got what?"

"Shirou, my brother," the blond said with a large grin, "I've got the best damn plan in the fucking world!"

* * *

><p>Make sure to give a hearty thanks to Venomancer as well. He knows a hell of a lot more lore than I do, and has been a peach.<br>I've said this before, but my page does have status updates and little snippets from the next chapter, once I progress enough. Let me know what you guys think.


End file.
